Put On A Happy Face
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
posted by Michele @ 3:10 PM
6 comments
6 Comments:
Michele you wrote
"Other people have physical illnesses (like asthma or diabetes), and they don't have to wear masks, afraid they won't "fit in." and I must disagree with you on this comment. I have asthma and I am diabetic. With both diseases I wear a mask and I am always worried about fitting in. People with asthma pretend their breathing is normal. They don't fit in with normal people. They can't run or do sports like normal people can. Their lungs prevent them from doing that. They were the masks to keep their loved one from worrying about them. The same goes for diabetics. I wear masks to hide the fact that I aint doing so well. I have been wearing that mask for so long lately because my sugars are skyrocketting to dangerous level and I don't want my hubby to worry. I pretend to be feeling fine. I don't feel like I fit in with the normal population because I can not eat like they do. I have to watch every bite I take because of the effects it has on my sugar. I stand in a room of friends and family at holidays and watch them eat all these desserts and put on a happy face so they don't see how much I wish I could eat like they do.
I think with every disease there is potential to wear those happy face masks and to feel like you don't fit in. It isn't conclusive to just bipolar.
Melissa
Melissa, my dear friend,
I stand corrected.
And I feel so bad for you. All that, and bipolar on top of it. You really have to try so hard every day, just to hold it together. I respect you for that.
Love and prayers, sweetie.
Michele
I have been trying not to hide who I am and what I fight from those around me. I refer to my disorder without apologizing for it. People need to know what it is, what it does, and that we're not crazy.... it's just chemical imbalances! Nothing really we can do about it, and that they don't have to treat me like a glass doll about to break. And because I have been open and forthcoming about it, those that I deal with all the time accept me and treat me just like they did before they knew. Because I haven't changed! Because I have been so open about it, and not ashamed, a good friend of mine got herself checked out too, and now has ner own diagnosis and treatment plan, and is feeling so much better. But she wouldn't have if I hadn't talked.
I know my situation is unique, not everyone is as accepting or understanding. And there will be people who will me differently, or set me apart. And that's their problem. I am sorry for how closeminded they are. I have courage to be me, because of a woman from church years ago who stood up and let us know about her! I bless her daily, for being an example to me!
I have been and continue to be (at times) open and honest with my closest friends and family about my 20 year bipolar disorder. It can be very difficult to do this and I find I walk a fine line on when to tell truth and when to get out a mask. I don't want to always lie and say I'm good or things are fine when asked. But I have found it both awkward and even depressing to a friendship to tell non-bipolar friends and family the truth. They don't understand feeling horrible and worthless, self-isolated in a small home office, able to do nothing about the swirling sadness that ravages my mind. When you can't see any physical evidence of disease and haven't experienced it yourself, I imagine a bipolar's comments must seem overly dramatic, morose and somewhat nonsensical. Being open is a noble goal. Once my closest friends asking how I am, instead enjoying the mask I automatically put on for them instead of telling my stories of brokenness, I often won't burden them with it any longer if possible. There is so much ignorance about mental illness out there I wonder if they suppose I'm magically cured? It would be nice to take an anti-bipolar anti-biotic and be freed from the struggle, but we all know this is just not the way it is. Best of luck to everyone out there who wonders when to tell truth and when it's easier for everyone involved if you just pretend.
I was diagnosed BP about a year ago and I am currently on Lamictal. I was on abilify for about 6 months but it made my hair fall out. My biggest problem is that I don't have any emotions. I am neither happy nor sad. The best way I can discribe it is I feel flat. I just go thru my day to day life with little or no emotions. This is a huge change from who I was a year and a half ago. My husband has stated on numerous occations that I am not the same person. And I agree, the medication doesn't allow me to be. I want my old life back. I want to be that happy go lucky person again. Please don't misunderstand me I in no way want to hurt myself or end my life. I just want to FEEL again.
Recently I got a promotion at work. You wouldn't know it I don't even talk about it. I don't feel excited about it. I got a promotion big deal. No excitment. On the other end my mom has suffered a stroke and had brain surgery to remove a blood clot. She is still in a coma. I don't feel sad about it. I don't feel anything anymore. No saddness no happiness. I guess what I am getting at is there any way out of this? Or am I to live my life out emotionless due to medication?
Proud mother of 3...it's always going to look different than it does today. That's the first thing I had to accept when I started learning about what bipolar meant for me. Today is NOT what tomorrow will look like. Sad, but true. Or, on the flipside, a blessing in disguise. And perhaps "tomorrow" is a bit longer away than just 24 hours, but give your doctors time to find the right medication for you. You may need to try an anti-depressant...that's what I needed when I felt very similar to you after my initial diagnosis. I was put on Welbutrin XL and *poof* the world had color again! (being an artist that was very important to me).
Michele,
I'm so glad to have stumbled onto your blog! It seems you and your "family" of commentators have insight and thoughts that are right up my alley...just what I need for this time in my journey.
**Your words: I am always just one episode away from insanity, stuck in my throat. I wanted immediately to share them with my mom who is my primary care giver. Having bipolar has meant that not only do I have to wear a mask to protect the people I love or may not even know, but also to protect MYSELF from the truth that I really am only one episode away from my next hospitalization (shudder). It's that mask that you see and I feel my hot breath against which reminds me to regulate that breath, take my meds, go to bed at the same time each day and get up each morning, exercise, and do some kind of work each day even if I can't make it to the office. To ask for help when I need it and do whatever I can for myself so as not to wear out my welcome.
That at least, is what I see the power of the mask is for me. It is what allows me the ability to hold my head up in public rather than feel like everyone is staring at me.
Post a Comment
<< Home