This has been a time of extremes. Of my four kids who speak to me regularly
(three had better since they all live with us!), two are having wonderful
success at work (including one’s spouse, who is also doing very well). One is just rolling along, enjoying life and
embracing new adventures and opportunities.
And one is in the middle of what I realize must be the toughest time (so
far) in life. Yes, yes, it really is
true; moms would rather go through hard times and physical pain and suffering
any day than to watch their kids go through such things.
I want to talk about mental illness. There, I said it. It’s not a four-letter word (obviously, it’s
two words containing 13 letters). Let's call it something else. How about mental enhancement? yeah, I like that. Blessedly, we live in a more enlightened time
where we should understand that many, many people suffer from some form of
mental enhancement. Those people are not
relegated to living in sanitariums (shouldn’t that be sanitaria?) or state
hospitals. Mental enhancement was like pregnancy. No one in “polite society” discussed such
things, and they were hidden away.
Mental enhancement doesn’t usually look like Jack Nicholson’s
experience in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” thank goodness. It is likely that you suffer from a mental enhancement. Or your cubicle mate. Or your wife/husband. Or your mom.
Or your high school English teacher.
Depression is a mental enhancement.
If you’re going to be mentally enhanced, I guess this might be the least
stigmatizing. Of course, those of us who
actually do have chronic depression get all kinds of “helpful” advice from
people along the lines of “when I feel down, I just make myself cheer up,” a
personal favorite, or “happiness is a choice, and I just choose to be happy.” Yeah, that’s what’s been wrong all these
years. I haven’t made good choices!
For me, I have felt so out of step with the world around me,
so awkward and unaccepted (especially as a child, both at home and in school
and church). I honestly don’t remember a
time where I wasn’t hiding inside my head, terrified of social contact. No, not like people who have mental enhancements
which prevent them from being able to leave their homes or be with anyone
because of extreme anxiety. For me, it
was self-loathing and anxiety and the battle between a naturally cheery nature
and a black depression weighing me down all.the.time. As an adult, and as I
began to embrace the reality that the condition I suffer is depression (though
I think I need to discover more to see whether there is anything else), I
rewound my life in my head and realized that I had been depressed for all of my
conscious thought for my whole life.
Heavy burden for a little girl to bear.
Heck, heavy burden for a grown woman with grandchildren to bear. And now this grown woman has the added burden
of wildly changing hormones as I traverse that special time of life. ::sigh::
Everyone has regrets and anxiety over mistakes and past loss
as well as fear of losing people and things they love. But my regrets and anxiety ate at me year
after year after year. Being in an
abusive marriage for over 14 years added to that. I tried to balance between Church teachings
that families are forever, and divorce should be avoided with the very real
possibility that my children would be taken away from me because I didn’t
protect them enough (Really. I was
threatened more than once.) The irony is that after suffering abuse and fear for 14 years, I finally made the decision to
end the marriage FOR my children, I eventually lost three of them, all of whom
now idolize their deceased father as if he was a prince among men, taken in his
prime, rather than a monster who abused all of us and VOLUNTARILY took his own
life.
If you have managed to get through my blog posts, you know
that I am deeply hurt and torn by the behavior of some of my family members
(again, not those in my home or those who still speak to me). It’s hard to see
others posting pictures of their grandchildren on Facebook. I don’t have any pictures to post. It’s beyond wonderful to have been accepted
by a couple of my husband’s children, especially since there’s a hole in my
heart. His parents and siblings have
also been great to me. It’s wonderful to
see the earlier-mentioned kids creating and enjoying success in lives that, for
some, didn’t have that expectation, and yet they are progressing and
growing. Wait, what’s that feeling? Oh, yeah, I’m PROUD of them. Not proud of myself but proud of THEM and
what they have done. And pleased that
they see positive things happening.
Now don’t get all worked up.
I’m proud of my kids for what they have accomplished and know that I’m
not responsible for their success, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel pride for them as well as
all that I have accomplished and how my life has grown because of it.
Back to my recently diagnosed child, who has been diagnosed
with bipolar disorder, though we have a pending appointment with a psychiatrist
to get more specialized attention. Both
my husband and I know that there is a hard road ahead, but at this point, our
child, while grappling with the reality of this diagnosis, is eager to do what is
possible to alleviate the symptoms and succeed in life. This is such a gifted child. I hope and pray that the potential will
outweigh the disabilities.
Yesterday we had a huge scare because we were in the midst
of changing meds, and our child went from being very manic to being alarmingly
angry. Just a lot of anger and profanity
(no threats or physical violence), but it made us realize that we have to be
careful because we don’t want to see our child lose a bright future over
missteps during the early days of this diagnosis.
I constantly see effusive praise and adoration on television
for anyone who has struggled with gender identity or sexual orientation. But I’m really not seeing it for kids who
know their gender identity (and it happens to match their bodies) or who are
straight, especially kids with mental enhancements.
Depression, schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, bipolar disorder,
these are all real things that cause suffering and pain. Please don’t throw someone away because
he/she is “damaged.” Some of the most creative, wonderful people I know and
love have those very same titles.
I’m getting help, as is my husband, who also suffers from
depression, but a lot of damage has been done in the past, and we marvel at how
different we feel when we are being helped.
Please make sure your windows are clean and don’t hate on those whose
windows are not.
My husband is amazing.
He’s talented, smart, funny, creative, and ambitious. My child is also amazing, also talented,
smart, funny, creative, and ambitious. I
couldn’t love either of them more than I do.
Well, yeah, I guess I can, because today I love them more than I did
yesterday, and I’m sure I’ll love them more tomorrow. I honestly wouldn’t change anything about
them. And you know what’s great? Yeah, the fact that I know that I am safe
with them.
To be honest, I am also grateful for my enhancements, because as I
grow older and continue to learn more about who I am and how I see the world, I
gain more compassion for others.
My Heavenly Father really does know me. And just when I’m
not looking, He gives me what I need to keep going. I’m a lucky…no, blessed girl <3
