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Today my doctor said to me, "You know, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to recover."
I sometimes question if I do deserve to recover. I'm not proud of some of the things I have done in life. I have not always been the kindest person. I have sometimes ignored people who needed me. I have put my husband and loved ones through years of anguish and fear as I slipped further and further into anorexia nervosa and failed at recovery many times.
I have made them cry as they thought that I could possibly die from my eating disorder. I blocked myself off from their fears and pleas, and continued to pursue thinness ruthlessly for years like a person possessed.
All of these things make me question my worth and if I deserve to recovery. But there's something more. My doctor, a wonderfully perceptive man even when I sometimes sit silently and dive back into the safety of my thoughts, said I have this space within my brain that allows the eating disorder to tell me that I do not deserve to be happy, healthy, and free.
This is so true, and I sometimes want to scream at the voices to stop and leave me alone.
Last night, Bob returned home after spending a week with his biological father. It's always an adjustment, but last night's return seemed to go more smoothly than homecomings past.
I like my job. I get to write for a living which is something many writers don't get to do. And moreover, I get to write about things that matter to me. Also a great luxury for many writers. These are pleasures as are the vast majority of people I get to meet.
I do have the great displeasure, though, of seeing vehement hatred for those with a mental illness. People who hate show up here, on my blog and elsewhere. People with a hatred for bipolar disorder seem to seek places to express their hatred.
But hatred of the mentally ill is simply another prejudice. Hatred of people with bipolar is the same as racism and just as unacceptable.
"Hold onto the hope and keep moving forward."
Those are the closing words I remember from the last speaker this morning at the NAMI National Convention's education session. All of us in the standing-room-only ballroom were there to honor the various education and support programs that NAMI offers. Consumers, providers, family members and NAMI staffers were invited to offer their stories, and tell how programs like Family-to-Family, NAMI Basics (for families with younger children), In Our Own Voice, Peer-to-Peer and more affected our journeys.
Wow. How we all need education. How we all need each other.
Celebrations and holidays in sobriety weren't times I looked forward to in early sobriety. But this Fourth of July, the breeze was light, the sun was warm and the company was full of laughter, conversations, and joy. To be able to celebrate a holiday sober filled me with gratitude. A holiday in sobriety in which I felt really good was something to celebrate.
Verbal abuse is used to diminish the victim's power. It is used to paralyze the mind and maim the heart, leaving the victim to feel so small and worthless that they become dependent on only the abuser. Only the abuser's opinion matters because s/he holds the key to the victim's happiness and pain. Pleasing the abuser (avoiding pain) is priority number one.
But abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum. The victim must feel as if they're doing more than avoiding pain to stay in and make sense of the abusive relationship. The victim must feel a higher purpose is at work to rationalize his or her participation in a relationship that causes them fear and sadness.
Last night, on the Mental Health and Social Media Chat (#mhsm) on Twitter, the topic was job searching and workplace disclosure for those with a mental health condition. While Isabella Mori moderated the chat and came up with all of the discussion questions, it was actually a topic that I had chosen. Depression disclosure at work is particularly relevant to me right now and it is at the forefront of my mind.
As Bob grows older and gradually delves into the strange world of friends and playmates, I often find myself surprised at how much younger he often seems than his compadres. It's true I have "sheltered" him to a point--limiting his tv/movie/video game choices to the PG and G-rated varieties, closely supervising him at play and sometimes vetoing his choice of friends. However, it seems his "immaturity" is more a matter of nature than nurture.
Sometimes PTSD is pretty cut and dry. There are obvious causes like combat, a plane wreck or car crash. Experiences like rape or witnessing death can also be causes that are well-known. What happens when you have the symptoms but cannot recall an event that may have triggered it? Our guest, Dan Hays, tells us on this episode of the HealthyPlace Mental Health TV Show.
A mental illness, especially during the adjustment period after first receiving a diagnosis, can be filled with a lot of strife and heartache. The challenges are only compounded by the fact that many find themselves more isolated and alone than ever before in their life. Our guest this week, Stephanie, has found herself in just that place, alone like never before.
Where do we go from here? Most of the family thinks just to let her hit bottom and then if she reaches out to help any we can. Some want to just keep paying her bills and just let her sit in the house with no responsibilities. Never been on medication and impossible to get to her when she refuses to talk to ANYONE.
Help.
On the day we agreed to videochat to make things less awkward IRL she woke up with a migraine so we rescheduled to the day after, I made sure to assure her that it was okay and to take her time. Later that day, in the late evening we had a nice chat but suddenly she stopped replying, even though nothing had happened. The day after I texted her good morning and said I hope she was feeling a little better. she wouldn't open my texts.
A couple days after I sent her a longer text saying that even though I had only known her for a short time I care a lot for her and would like to know how she are doing, telling her I'm there for her, assuring her I'm not going anywhere even though things might not be very easy. She wouldn't open it.
A week later I sent a text saying not to feel bad about not answering and that I will be there when she is able to answer again. It's been two weeks since this and she still hasn't opened my texts. She hasn't been active at all.
I don't know what else I can do. I assumed she might have fallen into a depression. I have tried to just not think about it anymore, and I haven't that much but when I do it sort of kills me inside...