Seeking understanding

How I long to have my illness understood!

What do friends think of me? What do they think of my frequent ups and downs? I worry that they are allowing those moods to colour what they consider my personality to be. But my moods are not what I am. I can't help my moods.

I'm down so much. Yet I'm a positive thinker with good goals to reduce the stigma attached to mental illness. On behalf of the many who suffer as I do, I try to help others understand what it means to live with bipolar disorder so that they'll be more compassionate.

And yet, even people close to me misunderstand and withhold the support I need.

A friend pointed out to me, though, that these people probably have enough problems of their own in life. Sometimes they just can't handle another thing. And that's probably something I need to take into account. My fear though is that they think ill of who I am because of my moods.

Who can I go to in times of deep darkness, when I can't see my way clear, when I want to die and when I just need someone to talk to and pray with?

My husband is a wonderful supporter. A patient man who has made a good life possible for me. But he doesn't have faith in God like I do. If he did, things would be so much different. I wouldn't need to depend so much on other friends.

God is number one in my life. I value my relationship with Him. But when dark moods come I need someone to remind me of His love and trustworthiness. A spiritual weakness of mine? Perhaps. But I know it's a common problem for people with depression. It's all part of the bipolar package.

The pain of stigma

I had always thought that I had been fortunate - that I had not been touched too much by the effects of stigma. But in the last little while, I've been deeply hurt a number of times by stigma and gross understanding about what it is to live with bipolar disorder. And one of the worst things is that the hurtful remarks were made to me by friends who I had considered supporters.

If it weren't for the friendship of three people in the church - people who are compassionate and caring and offer strong support, even though they might not always understand totally - I might have be tempted to leave this church, though it has done so much to encourage me and Living Room. I had just yesterday lauded the wonderful work of the church in supporting people with mental illness and how that has led to many Living Room groups.

But the poison of the remarks has been so very painful - more painful than the effects of the disorder itself. They are affecting me deeply. Though maybe it's the disorder - the severe moods - that make me especially sensitive. Never-the-less, it sickens me to have my pain and the pain of others who live with mental illness so grossly misunderstood.

What led to this post - amongst other things - is something a friend said to me this morning in response to my current problems with rapid cycling. She said "Your husband deserves a medal. Most husbands would have been out of there long ago." This isn't the first time she said this to me. She has said almost the same thing a number of times before and does it ever hurt! It has hurt me deeply.

By saying that she suggests that all I've been to my husband is a drain. That I haven't given anything to him. That I don't give anything back. And that is so completely false.

The truth is that I give a lot to my family, my community - and even the world. But when she said this it was as though that didn't count for anything. As though the only thing worth looking at was my mental illness. As though mentally ill people never give anything back.

As much as I'm able I pour out all I have in love for others. I pour out until I have almost nothing left to give. Then I have to refresh myself at the never-ending fountain of Jesus' love. I rest; I recover; and then I am ready to start working again. And resting is what I'm trying to do now.