Do you ever feel like everyone is out to get you? One of "those days" when it seems like nobody really cares about you or your feelings/struggles? Ever feel completely alone, and worthless? I think we all struggle with this to some extent. With depression/Bipolar it's almost a constant feeling. A never-ending battle. My good friend, who also has bipolar disorder, said "I just wish people could see how hard I'm trying. If only people knew what it takes!" I told Jason the other day "if some people had to deal with the racing, obsessive, negative thoughts that I have constantly, they'd probably go crazy. But at least they would understand."
I've described it as the TV shows where a character is faced with a decision. On one shoulder there is an angel, and on the other shoulder sits a devil. The character has to decide which to listen to, and looks back and forth from angel to devil. This is my life, when I am in the darkness. It is a constant, daily struggle to decipher the angel's voice from the devil's. Thoughts about worthlessness, being ugly, fat, stupid, and lazy are always there. Even though I know that they're not true, or at least I hope they aren't, it is a battle to keep those thoughts away. If you hear something often enough, it must be true, right? Well, I have the negative thoughts almost every waking moment. Can you imagine? And people wonder why sometimes a person with bipolar/depression/anxiety can't get out of bed.
I have (in another blog) mentioned how I have struggled with depression, suicidal ideation, and low self-esteem since early childhood. I can remember in preschool, when I would sit in the gutter and play with the dirt because I felt I didn't deserve better. I imagined all across the world, children were taught to love everyone as Jesus did, except for me. I once had someone tell me that it was very selfish, to think that people across the globe knew me, even if they were taught to hate me..... I used to think that every time there was a prayer said, I was the only person actually closing my eyes and everyone else was staring at me in disgust. I drove my mom crazy with the constant fear of speaking to others. I whispered everything to her, and her alone. Throughout my life, when a teacher or peer would talk about how they loved "everyone" in a group, I just knew that meant everyone besides me.
At one point, I was probably about 9, my mom told me that I had a persecution complex. I had no idea what that meant, and she said that I thought everyone was out to get me. I thought to myself "I don't think that, I know that." and I wondered why my mom didn't know that.
In the summer of 1997, I started counseling and was placed on anti-depressants. I almost forgot about the constant, nagging thoughts of worthlessness. I found a new sense of self. I felt like I was worthwhile, and I could be happy.
Twice since then, the darkness has come back in full force, and both times the persecution complex was there. I didn't even recognize that until a few days ago. Few knew the depth of my depression because I was still functioning. I showered, got dressed, went to work/church, and did my best to keep up with the house and kids. Like my friend said; if only people knew how hard I was trying, maybe the comments on my failures would have been less frequent. Judgements about my parenting, comments about laziness at home or work, and my failures as a wife. Perhaps the people that turned their backs on me would have realized how harsh they were. I would say they damaged me, or hurt me, but I found strength and I moved past that. I did learn some valuable lessons about the power of words. I learned that you can not assume anything about a person, just because they seem to have everything together.
No amount of words seem to counteract the negativity. Logically, I know that I am not as bad as the obsessive thoughts lead me to believe. Spiritually, I know that God loves me and I am worthwhile. But I still have to fight that devil on my shoulder, and that is harder than most people could ever understand.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Still a Stigma
I guess I assumed that because I have blogged about it, shared articles, done presentations, and openly talked about my struggles, everyone around me, everyone close to me, had a basic understanding of depression. I was so wrong. It's still everywhere. My heart is so heavy right now. I have spent the better part of the last 4 days crying whenever I am alone (or alone with TJ). I don't know where to begin. I don't know the middle or the end, either. I just know I have to blog. It will be nonsense, I'm sure.....
I have been struggling with depression again since before TJ was born. That's about a year. Those around me had no idea. In fact, when I finally got a new doctor, changed my dosage and began to feel better, those closest to me were surprised to hear that I had been depressed. I guess I'm better at hiding it than I thought!
Then, I watched the STUPID show on Netflix called "13 Reasons Why" and I relived my high school days. I didn't have the same struggles as Hannah Baker (fictional main character). But I was suicidal. I thought about dying and fantasized about being hospitalized or taken away in an ambulance. But the stupid show never addresses mental illness. It blames other people, and situations like bullying or sexual abuse. Which is rarely the reason people complete suicide. (I say complete instead of "commit" because "commit" makes it sound like a crime. and it is not a crime to be mentally ill!!.)
Yesterday at work, a coworker started talking about a story in the news. About a young girl that hung herself, and how one of her friends video taped the whole thing. As he talked, he expressed harsh feelings for the girl and the devastation she caused to her family and friends. The focus was on her act, nothing of the things that led up to it.
I don't tell many people about my "attempts" at suicide. I have too often been ridiculed and told "you didn't really want to kill yourself" or "it wasn't a REAL attempt" and, my favorite line "you just wanted attention"..... This is a BIG pet peeve. Of COURSE it's seeking attention. It's a cry for help. It doesn't matter if the person REALLY wanted to die. It doesn't matter if they were serious about the suicide. IT IS A CRY FOR HELP. Why is that so hard for people to understand? It doesn't matter the level of sincerity or the seriousness of the mental illness. It doesn't change the fact that whomever is thinking about death/suicide is seeking help. In whatever way they can think of.
When I struggled with anorexia/bulimia tendencies, the few people I opened up to doubted that I was really struggling. It wasn't "that serious" to skip a few meals, and I was accused of just seeking attention when I started purging. YES! I WAS seeking attention. Why is that so bad? I was going through some serious hell at the time, and that is how I coped. Is that healthy? NO. Is it dangerous? YES. Did I get ignored? Absolutely!
I know of at least 3 people that have been admitted into a psychiatric care facility. It angers me that there has to be shame about it. If I broke a bone, or had a heart attack, or found out I had diabetes, nobody would bat an eye if it was posted on social media. People would reach out to me, offer to bring meals, or other offers for help with whatever I might need. But a suicide attempt? Serious depression? OH! THE SHAME!. Why is there still shame in someone needing help with a mental breakdown? Why do we judge that so harshly? Or, like I mentioned before, why do people question whether or not it was "sincere" or "necessary"? The real question should be "why did that person fear asking for help for so long?"
We have come so far, but we still have so far to go.While I am not currently struggling with 'suicidal ideation', I am struggling with self worth. I am fighting the constant battle against negative thoughts. I am trying to convince myself that I deserve food, or sleep, or any form of happiness and comfort. I don't know how to ask for help. Even after 30 years of this battle, I still don't know how to reach out. I've been disregarded too many times. That is the saddest part of all.
I have been struggling with depression again since before TJ was born. That's about a year. Those around me had no idea. In fact, when I finally got a new doctor, changed my dosage and began to feel better, those closest to me were surprised to hear that I had been depressed. I guess I'm better at hiding it than I thought!
Then, I watched the STUPID show on Netflix called "13 Reasons Why" and I relived my high school days. I didn't have the same struggles as Hannah Baker (fictional main character). But I was suicidal. I thought about dying and fantasized about being hospitalized or taken away in an ambulance. But the stupid show never addresses mental illness. It blames other people, and situations like bullying or sexual abuse. Which is rarely the reason people complete suicide. (I say complete instead of "commit" because "commit" makes it sound like a crime. and it is not a crime to be mentally ill!!.)
Yesterday at work, a coworker started talking about a story in the news. About a young girl that hung herself, and how one of her friends video taped the whole thing. As he talked, he expressed harsh feelings for the girl and the devastation she caused to her family and friends. The focus was on her act, nothing of the things that led up to it.
I don't tell many people about my "attempts" at suicide. I have too often been ridiculed and told "you didn't really want to kill yourself" or "it wasn't a REAL attempt" and, my favorite line "you just wanted attention"..... This is a BIG pet peeve. Of COURSE it's seeking attention. It's a cry for help. It doesn't matter if the person REALLY wanted to die. It doesn't matter if they were serious about the suicide. IT IS A CRY FOR HELP. Why is that so hard for people to understand? It doesn't matter the level of sincerity or the seriousness of the mental illness. It doesn't change the fact that whomever is thinking about death/suicide is seeking help. In whatever way they can think of.
When I struggled with anorexia/bulimia tendencies, the few people I opened up to doubted that I was really struggling. It wasn't "that serious" to skip a few meals, and I was accused of just seeking attention when I started purging. YES! I WAS seeking attention. Why is that so bad? I was going through some serious hell at the time, and that is how I coped. Is that healthy? NO. Is it dangerous? YES. Did I get ignored? Absolutely!
I know of at least 3 people that have been admitted into a psychiatric care facility. It angers me that there has to be shame about it. If I broke a bone, or had a heart attack, or found out I had diabetes, nobody would bat an eye if it was posted on social media. People would reach out to me, offer to bring meals, or other offers for help with whatever I might need. But a suicide attempt? Serious depression? OH! THE SHAME!. Why is there still shame in someone needing help with a mental breakdown? Why do we judge that so harshly? Or, like I mentioned before, why do people question whether or not it was "sincere" or "necessary"? The real question should be "why did that person fear asking for help for so long?"
We have come so far, but we still have so far to go.While I am not currently struggling with 'suicidal ideation', I am struggling with self worth. I am fighting the constant battle against negative thoughts. I am trying to convince myself that I deserve food, or sleep, or any form of happiness and comfort. I don't know how to ask for help. Even after 30 years of this battle, I still don't know how to reach out. I've been disregarded too many times. That is the saddest part of all.
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