Life: Or Something Like It

Forethought: Why now someone might ask? There have been several things that have occurred recently both professionally and personally that created a need. The BP side of my brain screams at me to make them understand while the rational side of me says I cannot control what has been said or thought about me and I shouldn’t even begin to try. I can only control how I react to it. Am I sad that I will, almost always, be judged without even being questioned for my side? Certainly, but I stop and think of the few genuine individuals who are not family who know me, love me, and always have my back, even in the face of adversity and it soothes the ache in my heart. This is because of them, because of their faith in me, their love and loyalty that I even have the courage to share my story.

Having Faith

The verse below is one of many favorites from the Bible. My Christian faith has been tested many times over the years and although the Lord and I have not always seen eye to eye, He is undoubtedly the reason I am still here, among the living. His strength during some of the worst moments of my life has been ‘my guiding light’. He has always had faith in me, even when I didn’t have it in myself.

Favorite Bible Verse.....Micah 7:8

Time to Get Real

I’ve seen many posts on LinkedIn and various other platforms and magazines I follow where people have gotten vulnerable; they’ve gotten real. Opening up and taking a chance by sharing parts of their life that are extremely personal in hopes that it will resonate with others and make them (1) feel a little less alone in their struggles and (2) give them hope that they can get through whatever life has thrown at them.

I say this knowing that I’ve been there. That I’m still there. That I am fighting every single day. Not only to be a better person than I was the day before but some days to simply just survive. Surviving in a society that doesn’t give people the benefit of the doubt, where both sides of the story don’t matter, and where having a mental illness is still severely stigmatized.

A Reason for the Crazy

Mental illness isn’t something that is widely talked about even in today’s society. I firmly believe that the Covid-19 pandemic helped bring more awareness about mental illness but there is such a long way to go.

That being said, I myself went largely undiagnosed for the majority of my life. Although I knew I suffered from Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) I was not aware that I had comorbidities. In other words, I hit the mental illness jackpot. I say this jokingly, as a coping mechanism of course, because if I didn’t laugh, I might begin to cry and never stop. Just what are those comorbidities? I’m so glad you asked. I was also diagnosed with Agoraphobia with Panic Disorder, ADHD, and Rapid Cycling Bipolar II Disorder. Quite the cocktail of challenges. But how did it take so long to see what I now see so clearly?

What IS Bipolar Disorder?

Like most individuals, I buried everything down deep and found, at times, various healthy and many unhealthy coping mechanisms. However, like most things that get buried, they can only stay buried for so long before something triggers it to the surface.

Now statistically speaking, 15-20% of individuals who suffer from bipolar will commit suicide. Individuals with rapid cycling bipolar are 10-20 times more likely to commit suicide. Individuals with comorbidities (including bipolar) increase to 25-60%. I don’t tell you these statistics because I am or will ever contemplate it myself. I made a promise a long time ago that no matter how bad things were, that would not be the solution I chose but it does show the severity of having even just one mental illness to manage let alone multiple. Things that would 'stress' even the calmest of folks are painfully magnified for someone with bipolar or any other mental illness for that matter. This article describes what it feels like to suffer from bipolar. Almost everything she feels, I have felt myself at one time or another, daily in most cases, if I am being honest with myself.

Multiple Somethings

How did we (or I) get here? For me, multiple somethings led me to a breaking point: the death of my mother, working in an often times toxic environment, and the reappearance of my childhood sexual abuser.

Something #1 - The Death of My Mother

Let’s begin at the beginning. My mother, who had been battling cancer for the better part of ten years, fell and fractured her hip. It would be another two days before she even went to the hospital to be checked out which in turn led to emergency hip replacement surgery. Over the next couple of months, I would watch her attempt physical therapy, be in and out of rehabs and hospitals countless times, develop a stage four pressure wound on her lower back, develop multiple other pressure wounds, and slowly deteriorate from the woman I knew.

I had to help make medical decisions, sign her DNR when she was too weak to sign it on her own, work with hospice during her end of life, and prepare her funeral arrangements. I did my best to take care of her and be with her every single day. I would not change that for one second.

But let me be clear, as much as I loved her, she was in fact, not a good mother. When she died, she took many unanswered questions with her which resulted in me being angry at her for a long time afterward. And I don’t know that I am still 100% past that. I firmly believe she tried to make up for my childhood later in life by being the best grandmother she could be but it didn’t detract from the fact that I came from a dysfunctional and fractured family.

I didn’t have one good parent, let alone two, to rely on. My mother was an absent mother who did not make time for her children, was not interested in their lives, and was more concerned with keeping up appearances with her friends. She was though, the better one, of the two.  I don't say any of this to be mean or to tarnish her memory in any way. It is just who she was. It didn't mean she didn't love us in her way, as best she could.

Something #2 - An Often Times Toxic Environment

The second ‘something’ I will be brief about because I don’t believe in burning bridges regardless of the circumstances that led to my resignation. In addition, I spent over nine years there and some of them were really good ones. So I will simply say that it was a place I was deeply unhappy with for some time towards the end. No amount of compensation was worth the long hours, the amount of (overloaded) work that was expected, working with difficult people, and lack of support. It took a toll on my mental health. To the point that I asked my leadership on multiple occasions for help and even said I may have to consider resigning because I was at my breaking point only to receive no help or support and my pleas went largely unanswered.

So what appeared to be a black mark on my soul was truly a blessing in disguise. It still did quite a number on my mental health which I am still working through to this day but I walked away and let it lie, no matter the things I heard were being said about me and the actions of others immediately after it happened. While I recognize and freely admit that I am not perfect and there are many things I could have done better; I wasn’t the only one who could have done better and I certainly should not shoulder all the blame. There are always three sides to a story. In this particular case, my side and the truth didn’t matter. A few of my closest friends, who saw the actions of others that were taken immediately after it happened, were the ones who told me it was done deliberately and I can certainly see why they felt that way.

The first experience with my mother triggered me. It changed me in such a way that I suffered mentally and physically. My fibromyalgia coupled with my spine injuries was so severe that I could barely walk and did so with a cane for quite some time. That type of physical pain 24/7 will also change a person. But the physical is always easier to heal than the mental. Maybe it’s because you can actually see the healing process when it’s external. On the inside, the wounds never fully heal, or so it seems.

It was as if something broke inside me and I could no longer keep my demons at bay. I couldn’t tuck the bad things away in a corner of my mind and have them stay there. So at a time when I needed help the most, I was without. Now mind you, I have the most amazing immediate family who have been my rock. But I had lost my mother, my brother was overseas, my best friend and I were no longer best friends, I lost my job, my family’s healthcare, primary source of income and on top of all that, I was dealing with Bill. Everything came rushing to the surface and was no longer manageable, to say the least.

Something #3 - Reappearance of my Childhood Abuser

Which leads me to the third (recent) ‘something.’ Bill, my biological father, whom I only address as Bill, was also required to have two emergency surgeries when part of his intestines became trapped in a hernia. When the hospital couldn’t reach my younger brother as his point of contact (he was out of the country), they called me. I had not seen or talked to Bill in almost nine years. And so it began again. The constant flashbacks, nightmares, and trauma. It wasn't to say I didn't already have those, just not as frequently or vividly.

He has subsequently spent the last year in and out of the hospital and rehabs countless times as well. He is in the process of losing toes to infection from his uncontrolled diabetes but he won’t do what needs to be done to fix it. (UPDATE: He had them amputated finally after we discussed it last weekend and before I was able to finish posting this.) He’s in the process of losing his home because he stopped making payments and didn’t say a word. He hasn’t walked in over a year. I have in fact, become the primary decision-maker for his finances and oftentimes his medical decisions.

I do this because it’s the right thing to do. Doing what is right versus what is easy. Easy would be to walk away, never look back, and let him figure it out on his own. And quite honestly, I’ve been told many times to do just that because it’s what he deserves (even from my therapist).

But the Christian in me won’t allow it. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t know what that reason is. God has a plan for all of us. I may not know what His plan is, and I may not even like it at times, but I trust He has His reasons. So faith that this is the right thing to do is what keeps me going.

However, it is at great personal cost to me, to my well-being. And I am trying my best to balance doing the right thing and taking care of myself. Sometimes I do it well, other times I do it miserably. Hence the resignation from my previous position and starting therapy over 30 years late.

History Isn't Helping

Can you imagine becoming an adult at the age of eleven? I was still so young and hadn’t even started middle school yet, but that was how old I was when Bill first began abusing me. I was no longer a child, having been forced to "grow up" long before any child should have to. I no longer had a father, there was only Bill, my mother’s husband. I would be sexually abused for the next almost six years of my life, finally ending at the age of seventeen when I watched him get arrested in our driveway. I moved out of my childhood home the very same day.

It wouldn’t be long after moving out that I was raped by my first ‘adult’ boyfriend. Something that lasted only minutes but would then stay with me for the rest of my life. After Bill’s arrest, my own mother cared more about what people thought than if her daughter was okay. She was actually furious with me for telling anyone other than her first about the abuse. Her first thought was not to ask me if I was okay, what help I needed, or if there was anything she could do. And when the time came, she demanded I tell the prosecutors that I didn’t want Bill to go to jail. It was never about me or what I wanted.

Your Trauma is ALWAYS Valid

How do you recover from those things? How does it not affect your life? The answer is you don’t. And it does affect you for the rest of your life but you learn to manage the fallout from it the best that you can.

There was never a day in my childhood years that I lived without fear, sadness, shame, and guilt, just to name a few. I prayed every night to the Lord that I would die in my sleep and every morning when I woke up and my prayer went unanswered, I thought ‘Today is the day it will be better.’

I’d like to believe that the damage is reversible, or at the very least, can be healed to the extent that I can live a mostly happy life but things like that stay with you. Trust becomes sacred because it was broken by the people you should always be able to trust.

The deep shame and guilt you carry along with the feelings of worthlessness permeates your soul. No one is louder than the voices in our own head telling us we deserved it, it was all our fault, we asked for it, and we will never be good enough. My childhood changed me fundamentally and changed the way my mind processes the world around me.

Having mental illnesses isn’t a life sentence but quite honestly, it feels like it some days. And here I am, having three or four or whatever, which were undoubtedly born from the adversity that was my youth and then magnified over the years.

So many excruciatingly horrible life events with some good ones sprinkled in there too. Yet it’s hard to enjoy those good moments oftentimes because the dark moments and constant memories are always louder.

A Look at the Brighter Side of Things

Through all of life’s obstacles, I have always tried to maintain the mindset that there is good in everyone and everything. I try to trust (as much as I can) until I am proven wrong. I believe there is a purpose for all the things life throws at us, good and bad. I have always been happy to be the bad guy in someone else’s story, taking the blame, whether it belongs to me or not if it means the other person will be happier with themselves. I look at all sides to a story instead of just believing the one that was told to me, even if it was from a friend or family member. I give people the benefit of the doubt because that is what I would want in return.

I’ve learned that life is hard, or at least, mine has been extremely hard but still, it could always be worse, right? There will always be someone who has it worse than I do. Most people will never know what it means to be in constant physical pain, all day, every day for 90% of their lives. What is a five of ten on the pain scale for me, would be a twelve for most people. Yet I am proud of all the things I have still been able to accomplish with my broken body, such as running half marathons or climbing mountains.

If the physical pain wasn’t enough, there is the mental chaos that is in my head every day that only rests when I am sleeping, if I am lucky to sleep, and the nightmares or insomnia don’t kick in. Yet, even with all the chaos, I am learning to work through it and find the beautiful parts and cherish those. The creativity that comes from having ADHD and energy to match. The empathy that comes from having C-PTSD that leads me to volunteer to help others who share my same fate.

I am in no way an expert in any of this. I am learning as I go by researching my disorders and with the help of my therapist. Unfortunately, the stigma surrounding mental illness is alive and well (and thriving for that matter). Therefore the desire to share my thoughts and stories so that others can help someone else or at the very least seek help themselves makes this worth it.  And if my friends, colleagues, and family gain a better understanding of what it means to have a mental illness, that’s even better.

No one with a mental disorder wakes up one day and says, I hope today is the day I make bad choices and piss all my friends and coworkers off, or I hope I screw my life up entirely and alienate family, or even worse, that it’s the day that I end my own suffering regardless of the wake of hell it will leave behind. We don’t want to be the way we are. It’s not a choice for us and we know how hard it is for you. Imagine how hard it is for us, to not only worry about surviving each day for ourselves but then having to face our desires and fears to be a better, more normal person for you. It’s exhausting. Yet we still try, every single day, we try.

I’ll end with a quote that I heard in my youth that became my mantra for the rest of my life. It has been my prayer in dark times and in good and it still holds true to this day.

"Even the Darkest Night Will End, And the Sun Will Rise." – Victor Hugo