Hello all,
I would like to thank each and every one of you that read my last post. I was in a very dark place that I am still trying to claw my way out of. I appreciate so much all of the sweet comments, and messages I have received. You really find out how many genuinely awesome people you have in your life at a time like this. I cannot tell you how much it means to me and my family to have your support and love through this time.
I also have a lot of people that have told me some things that are very upsetting to me. A lot of messages (from complete strangers, I might add) have said that they are going through similar situations, and they were so afraid to talk about it.
I'm not afraid. And I will definitely speak for those silent.
I've also had a few people tell me that it's "best not to air my dirty laundry for everyone to see." That's not the point of this. I'm not saying anything so that people are "in my business," I'm simply doing this because I love to write. I get enjoyment out of writing about anything, and seeing that people actually read it makes me even happier.
A topic like mental health, or bipolar disorder, isn't discussed a lot because people don't understand it. I struggled with this sickness for 10 years, and had no idea what was wrong with me. I was afraid of myself, because I thought I was depressed, yet no anti depressant was working for me. I thought I just had a flawed personality, or some anger issues. I genuinely did not understand what was going on with me. After seeing a psychiatrist, I understand so much more. Why was I so angry all of those times when I honestly had nothing to truly be angry about? Why did I cry at night, and when Sam asked why, I had no clue what to tell him? Why did I always spend crazy amounts of money when I got angry? Why did I break things, and instantly feel better? I had no idea until I got some answers.
So to those few who got in touch with me saying they had been feeling the same way, or went through similar situations, I just want to say, please get help. It doesn't make you weak, or crazy. It makes you a lot stronger actually. Being able to walk into an office called a "behavioral health center," every week with my head held high knowing that I am getting the help I need, does not in any way make me feel weak, or crazy.
A lot of people, (and I'm about to rant but just stay with me) have come to me saying, "I've been in a similar situation," or "a friend of mine went through a similar situation and they took such and such medication, so it might work for you!"
When you get the flu, you go to the doctor, and there is essentially one cure to the flu.
When you get diagnosed with a mental illness, there are litterally 1,000,000 different types of medications, and combinations of medication that you can try. And not one person is the same. So please, don't tell me you know what is best for me. Not even my doctor does, it's a definite trial and error type situation. If you are going through something similar, I won't try to diagnose you or give you any recommendation at all on what medicine you should take. I promise.
Through all of these awful happenings in my life, I would like to become somewhat of an advocate for "the silent ones." I want mental health to be important to everyone, even those that aren't sick, because what makes it the hardest is the feeling of "loneliness," or that you're "crazy." That isn't the case ladies and gents. There are so many people out there in the world that have mental illnesses, that don't even get help because they are so terrified to speak out.
I'm not afraid anymore. I am sick. I take medications for my sickness. I will probably (more than likely) have to be on these medications for the rest of my life, and I am okay with that. I simply want to get back to finding out who I am, and what I really want for myself. I want my happiness too, and I think I deserve that.
To the ones who have said they enjoyed reading my blog, and that I am a good writer, OH MY GOSH, that means so so much to me. I really do enjoy writing, more than you can know. And in order to de-stress my life a bit, I have started writing every day in a little journal that I always keep on me. Sometimes two and three times a day. I will write what I'm thinking, how I'm feeling, and sometimes I will just doodle and brainstorm ideas for a story. But, I say all of that to say I definitely will be writing on my blog more frequently and might even create a new blog just for the purposes of talking about mental health. I don't know, but I would love to hear ideas from all of you! And I will be posting a link to my full blog soon, and if you'd like to start from the beginning, I have titled all of my posts about my disorder "My Struggle..." so you can just skim through all the junk and read those.
I also am thinking about possibly starting a new YouTube channel to talk about these things. Maybe I'm going too far, too fast. I don't know. I don't really care. I am doing what makes me happy, so I think I'm okay. I'm not "airing my dirty laundry" for all to see. These posts have nothing to do with my divorce and what is really going on in my life, it just talks about a little piece of me that I have no problem sharing.
So have fun rooting through my dirty undies.
I genuinely love each and every one of you reading this, and I hope to keep getting words of encouragement. (Out of the forrest but still in the dark, is how the saying goes I believe)
STAY EXCELLENT MY LOVES :)
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
My Struggle; The Beginning
It's been 10 years since I realized that something was "wrong" with me. 10 years since I started having these attacks at night that would wake me from my sleep, thinking I was about to die. It's been 6 years since I started taking my first anti depressant, thinking that it would help. I had no idea that this road would lead me in this direction.
This past week has been the hardest and most life altering week of my life. I had a husband last week. I had no idea what was wrong with me last week. I thought that I was about to die last week.
Since I had gotten married, I started noticing these extreme periods of time where I would bounce from emotion to emotion in a matter of seconds for no apparent reason. I would get so angry over nothing that I just wanted to scream, and throw things. I didn't know what was wrong with me, and after having taken 7 different anti depressants that didn't help, I wanted it to be over. I had suicidal thoughts racing through my head. If I just lock myself in the bathroom with the water running, and take a few too many pills, it'd be hours before sam realized, and I'd be gone. If I could just hit my head hard enough on something, it'd be over quick, and all of this pain would be gone. Hanging myself, stabbing myself, shooting myself...all were common thoughts last week.
Sam and I got into an arguement because I wanted to go to the hospital. I was afraid of myself, and what I could do to me. Sam always thought this was all in my head, which technically it is, but I couldn't control it and now it was starting to literally control me. So I sent the text. "I am going to the hopsital, I want a divorce"
The next few days were a spiral. I went to my parent's house to find comfort, and the following tuesday I met with a psychiatrist. That Tuesday was the first time I had ever been officially diagnosed. My whole time dealing with this, I had never been diagnosed with anything, just given an anti depressant that didn't work.
Bipolar Disorder.
I have bipolar disorder. This is something that I am going to have to live with for the rest of my life. And the thought of that terrifies me more than I could ever imagine.
Sam told my mother, father, and me that he just needed a few days to cool off and then he would come talk to me. However, on Friday I was served divorce papers. Never hearing from Sam.
He decided that he didn't want to deal with me anymore. It's completely torn me up inside, and though it's really no one's business, I'm putting it out there to say, I am going to have to deal with people like him for the rest of my life. That get so fed up with my sickness, that they just leave. This is also a thought that terrifies me.
Bipolar disorder, though treatable, is not curable. It is a disease. A lot of people (some family members) think that I have been making this up to get attention. To those people I say, read. Read about bipolar disorder. Look at the events in my life; all the doctor's visits, all the medicines, a failed marriage, and tell me that it's dramatics. I'm not making this up. Just because you can't physically see it doesn't mean it isn't there.
My thoughts at this point are so scattered that I doubt any of this makes sense. I don't know what to think, or where to go as of this point. The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm scared. I don't know if I'll ever be functional enough to have children, or a relationship with anyone. I don't know who I should let get close to me, because I don't want to get hurt. And I simply just don't know what to do. Medicines make me "normal." And I absolutely hate myself for it. What kind of creature can't function on a day to day basis without those two little pills? I don't understand it, I don't like it.
So many people have been comforting to me in these past few days, sending me texts of encouragement, and phone calls asking if I need anything. But they all come with the one question I dread
"how are you?"
Everyone expects me to say..."I'm fine" or "I'll be alright" but the sad truth is...I'm not fine. I don't know when I will be alright. This shouldn't have happened to me. I've been lied to, and completely forsaken by a man that I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. I have been diagnosed with a disorder that will torment me daily forever. How do you expect me to be?
I keep thinking that maybe now, with the correct diagnoses, everything will be better from here on out, but that's not the truth. I will get worse and I will get better. Forever... I will have to change my medications to make it able for me to function on a day to day basis. I will have to see a psychiatrist and a counselor for years and years to come.
what kind of monster am I? What did I do wrong to deserve this?
I feel like if I could just go back in time from where I am now, I could change this all. I could make my marriage work, and make myself better, but the hard truth is; I can't. I could never help being sick. I could never help getting angry, I could never help the suicidal thoughts. This isn't a game. My marriage was doomed to fail from day one, and theres nothing I could do about it. I was born with this disorder. I can't just make it go away with hard work and determination.
I don't know what the point of this post was. Mostly to get all of these things off my chest I suppose...but don't feel sorry for me. Prayer is what I ask. Because I honestly don't know what to do from here, and no human can possibly bring me comfort at this point.
Pray for my strength. Pray for the ability to cope with everything that life has handed me. Pray for the ability to think and see clearly. Pray for my fears to be calmed with His hand.
Just pray.
I will be okay, and I can say that for sure. I don't know how long it will be before I feel "okay," but I'll get there one day.
I appreciate everyone's comfort through this time, it means more to me than you will ever be able to understand.
This past week has been the hardest and most life altering week of my life. I had a husband last week. I had no idea what was wrong with me last week. I thought that I was about to die last week.
Since I had gotten married, I started noticing these extreme periods of time where I would bounce from emotion to emotion in a matter of seconds for no apparent reason. I would get so angry over nothing that I just wanted to scream, and throw things. I didn't know what was wrong with me, and after having taken 7 different anti depressants that didn't help, I wanted it to be over. I had suicidal thoughts racing through my head. If I just lock myself in the bathroom with the water running, and take a few too many pills, it'd be hours before sam realized, and I'd be gone. If I could just hit my head hard enough on something, it'd be over quick, and all of this pain would be gone. Hanging myself, stabbing myself, shooting myself...all were common thoughts last week.
Sam and I got into an arguement because I wanted to go to the hospital. I was afraid of myself, and what I could do to me. Sam always thought this was all in my head, which technically it is, but I couldn't control it and now it was starting to literally control me. So I sent the text. "I am going to the hopsital, I want a divorce"
The next few days were a spiral. I went to my parent's house to find comfort, and the following tuesday I met with a psychiatrist. That Tuesday was the first time I had ever been officially diagnosed. My whole time dealing with this, I had never been diagnosed with anything, just given an anti depressant that didn't work.
Bipolar Disorder.
I have bipolar disorder. This is something that I am going to have to live with for the rest of my life. And the thought of that terrifies me more than I could ever imagine.
Sam told my mother, father, and me that he just needed a few days to cool off and then he would come talk to me. However, on Friday I was served divorce papers. Never hearing from Sam.
He decided that he didn't want to deal with me anymore. It's completely torn me up inside, and though it's really no one's business, I'm putting it out there to say, I am going to have to deal with people like him for the rest of my life. That get so fed up with my sickness, that they just leave. This is also a thought that terrifies me.
Bipolar disorder, though treatable, is not curable. It is a disease. A lot of people (some family members) think that I have been making this up to get attention. To those people I say, read. Read about bipolar disorder. Look at the events in my life; all the doctor's visits, all the medicines, a failed marriage, and tell me that it's dramatics. I'm not making this up. Just because you can't physically see it doesn't mean it isn't there.
My thoughts at this point are so scattered that I doubt any of this makes sense. I don't know what to think, or where to go as of this point. The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm scared. I don't know if I'll ever be functional enough to have children, or a relationship with anyone. I don't know who I should let get close to me, because I don't want to get hurt. And I simply just don't know what to do. Medicines make me "normal." And I absolutely hate myself for it. What kind of creature can't function on a day to day basis without those two little pills? I don't understand it, I don't like it.
So many people have been comforting to me in these past few days, sending me texts of encouragement, and phone calls asking if I need anything. But they all come with the one question I dread
"how are you?"
Everyone expects me to say..."I'm fine" or "I'll be alright" but the sad truth is...I'm not fine. I don't know when I will be alright. This shouldn't have happened to me. I've been lied to, and completely forsaken by a man that I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. I have been diagnosed with a disorder that will torment me daily forever. How do you expect me to be?
I keep thinking that maybe now, with the correct diagnoses, everything will be better from here on out, but that's not the truth. I will get worse and I will get better. Forever... I will have to change my medications to make it able for me to function on a day to day basis. I will have to see a psychiatrist and a counselor for years and years to come.
what kind of monster am I? What did I do wrong to deserve this?
I feel like if I could just go back in time from where I am now, I could change this all. I could make my marriage work, and make myself better, but the hard truth is; I can't. I could never help being sick. I could never help getting angry, I could never help the suicidal thoughts. This isn't a game. My marriage was doomed to fail from day one, and theres nothing I could do about it. I was born with this disorder. I can't just make it go away with hard work and determination.
I don't know what the point of this post was. Mostly to get all of these things off my chest I suppose...but don't feel sorry for me. Prayer is what I ask. Because I honestly don't know what to do from here, and no human can possibly bring me comfort at this point.
Pray for my strength. Pray for the ability to cope with everything that life has handed me. Pray for the ability to think and see clearly. Pray for my fears to be calmed with His hand.
Just pray.
I will be okay, and I can say that for sure. I don't know how long it will be before I feel "okay," but I'll get there one day.
I appreciate everyone's comfort through this time, it means more to me than you will ever be able to understand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)