Things I Wish You Could Understand Right Now
That you are more irritable, more angry, every day.
That I am not The Enemy.
That I am here because I choose to be.
That there are so many landmines around currently, I can’t take a step in any direction without setting one off.
That I have made, and continue to make, sacrifices of myself in order to be with you.
That I make these sacrifices because I love you.
That I do not feel like a martyr.
That following a burst of anger just before bedtime, while you go to sleep with the aid of sedatives and sleeping pills, I am left awake, crying, hurt.
That I don’t have anyone to confide in–not really–partly because I want to protect the way you are perceived by others, and “this” is not “you.”
That I feel very, very alone.
That I temper every single decision I make, no matter how seemingly insignificant, with what possible effect it may have on you.
That I resent not only not being able to look forward to Springtime, but having to dread its coming.
That I feel like I’m being “used up” faster than I should be.
That when I am sick, like I am now, I try to somehow “schedule” my illness and treatments around what I think you can handle.
That I sometimes feel trapped, even though intellectually I know that I’m not.
That I have learned more than you’d believe about detachment.
That I refuse to be manipulated by The Bipolar Beast.
That a great deal of my strength in dealing with these bad times comes from knowing that I am only here by choice, and that the power to stay or leave is all mine. I can say “I don’t have to take this,” and mean it.
That the fact that, so far, I have chosen to, and have been able to “take this,” does not mean that I always will be able to.
That you do keep getting better. Even the worst times now are better than the best times “then.”
That I appreciate when you try.
That I understand that it is hard.
That I KNOW it’s not fair.
That I am your single most loyal ally on all of God’s earth.
That if I don’t figure out how to get some of myself back, there won’t be anything left to give to you.
That by the time you could read these words with understanding and empathy, they will no longer be relevant, because you’ll be “yourself” again.
That I’m not sure how long I can hold out waiting for that time to come this year.
March 17th, 2008 at 7:51 am
Even if the only confidants you have are online, you are not alone. The work you do is AMAZING. I wish you all the stamina and patience you want and/or need. I hope you can find a few hours for yourself in all this, maybe a playdate for B so you can go do something for you? You are strong, and kind, and honest, and beautiful. I hope you find some rest, some relief, some refreshment, and some recognition today, until it passes, and ever after.
March 17th, 2008 at 8:45 am
You ALWAYS have me to confide in. I know what you’re talking about. I’ve been there, too, and every day I wonder if today’s the day it’s gonna start up again.
I wish you were closer.
March 17th, 2008 at 8:51 am
Much love to you. I wish you didn’t have to experience this.
March 17th, 2008 at 11:23 am
Wow…
I could have written that about my mother…but what smacks me upside the head even worse is that my husband could have written a lot of that about me.
(hugs)
March 17th, 2008 at 11:39 am
Thanks. I needed that. After the fiance’ lost yet another job last week when the tide turned and this week has been a couch fest for him, I needed to not feel like I was alone in wishing he could see how the other half lives.
March 17th, 2008 at 11:40 am
this is such a touching, honest post. i identify with your words, and your pain.
it sounds like you are aware of the pattern, i hope that allows you to keep hold of who you are and that your needs are very important.
i’ve found that when i take care of myself and protect my boundaries, it gives other people permission to do the same (it isn’t my motive–to change other people–that would be another form of control for me).
the outcome, a change in perception/heart/soul are my reasons for doing it.
March 17th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
This helps me. I feel even more alone when its all trapped in my head because I can’t articulate it, even if its just to myself. 90% of what you wrote gave a voice to what is in my head.
March 17th, 2008 at 1:23 pm
Full empathy for you, Belinda. Sometimes, as the mother of a bp, I feel that the illness takes an even larger toll on me than my son.
I understand every word you’ve written.
March 17th, 2008 at 4:51 pm
Wow… are you reading my diary?
Wonderfully written.
March 18th, 2008 at 8:54 am
this is very powerful. I’ve often wondered how other spouses/partners deal with and handle the impact of mental illnesses in their family. It is a hard road – trying to keep it all together and have some semblance of balance. I really understand what you’re saying.
March 18th, 2008 at 7:48 pm
Oh Belinda. I hope you find yourself again and renew your strength. I also wonder how I have treated others, when I am in the belly of the beast, and I can only hope that I haven’t caused such pain. Biggest hugs to you, and maybe hold onto the fact that summer is coming, that beautiful golden season, when maybe (hopefully) a sense of normalcy will return.
March 20th, 2008 at 4:45 pm
thank you, this was wonderful.
March 20th, 2008 at 9:14 pm
You know I am ALWAYS here for you. ALWAYS. If you need to just talk, or just sit near someone & stare quietly into space. I am here.
Love you.
March 26th, 2008 at 4:41 pm
I am sitting here with tears pouring down my face thinking thank god someone else knows. Like death or backpain it is hard to understand unless you have experienced it yourself.