One thing I have learned on this journey, or more like something that was confirmed because I realized this a long time ago, is that I have some of the greatest friends and family in the world. When I got my diagnosis in October, 2014, I told very few people. I felt ashamed of what I was. I had never given that much thought to BP before then, but what I did know about it was far more negative than positive. Years ago, in high school I read about Nick Traina (His Bright Light) and that was probably the most exposure I'd ever had to the illness. Most of what I thought was that BP was a scary and unpredictable illness. So when it was me that got the diagnosis, I really wrestled with who to tell. I still haven't fully come out of the closet with it either. Which is partially why I post this blog with a pen-name.
But of the few people who do know, I've been overwhelmed by their grace and understanding. I remember my sister was more relieved than anything else, simply to have a possible answer. She didn't care about what it was, just that we then had a name to put to it so that we could start treating it. I live about 1300 miles away from my family. So the friends my husband and I have where we live have become like family to us. And they really banded together for me in my time of need. Many of them went out of their way to educate themselves on my illness as to better equip themselves to help me. My mom, who has had a fierce love for running and has been since forced to give it up, still registered for a race that raises awareness for mental health. She said she'd walk the route just in my honor. Wow. One of my dear friends moved to Italy and even from across the ocean, she is still giving me bits of advice that have gone a long way. I know when I get to the point when I come out and this becomes public knowledge that I will probably lose people that I thought were friends. I'm sure this is inevitable. But the reality is that when I am actually ready to come out with my illness, there will be more people who just don't care. Not in a heartless matter, but in a this doesn't change much for me kind of way. Which is how I will prefer it. And when I lose some friends over this, well, then I guess they really didn't matter in the long haul anyway. It's those that have stuck by me that have made all the difference for me. And I am eternally grateful for their love and support for me. Especially being so far away from those who are my actual family.
Having this support system has been so crucial for me. On days when I'm weak and exhausted and so emotionally overwhelmed, they are here to help me. They lend an ear and often a spot on their couch for me. They help me with my kids when I have appointments or just need some time for myself. Some I have even asked to help point out to me the warning signs in me when I'm about to have an episode, hypo-manic or depressive. They help me identify the signs even before I can sometimes see them. And they always pick up the phone when things are really bad.
In November I went through a long bout with terribly frequent suicidal thoughts. There were a few times when things got quite grim and it was my friends that helped save me. I was balled into the fetal position on my bathroom floor one day with only the worst thoughts raging through me when one of these friends showed up. I was embarrassed for her to see me like that. But she got a call from another friend of mine who I had been talking to but wasn't close enough to intervene in a fast enough manner. So there my friend stood, with me on the floor and tears streaming down my swollen face, and she very calmly told me to come home with her. She took me and my kids in until my husband could get home and I am eternally grateful for this act of generosity and love. I don't know if I would have gone through with or tried any of the awful things I had been contemplating, but she saved me from myself that day. And that was when I really learned how amazing my friends are. I haven't shared that story with many people. It was one of my darkest days and I hate to even admit that I was ever that low. Yet I cannot fully acknowledge my appreciation for my friends without telling that story.
I can only hope that everyone who goes through something like this has at least one person. I am beyond lucky to have many, but one is all we really need. One person's love for us can take us to places we can never go on our own. It has been love that my friends and family have shown me, not judgement. And it makes it easier for me to love myself rather than judge myself for what I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment