And it only hurts when I’m breathing
My heart only breaks when it’s beating
My dreams only die when I’m dreaming
So, I hold my breath–to forget
Shania Twain
The pain will always be the worst part. That much I’ve come to accept. This pain is here to stay. But the part that I haven’t let go of is this desire to be normal. All I really want is a sense of normalcy. Don’t ask me what normal means. And don’t try to tell me normal doesn’t exist, or some bullshit like that.
Normal is just not what this is. Normal is being able to process life without your mind going haywire. Normal is being able to trust someone. Normal is being able to feel sadness and happiness and whatever is in between, and not just the extremes of depression and [hypo] mania.
If I make it out of this struggle alive, it will be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. Every time the scales shifts to the left and the depression seeps in, I’m so sure this will be the last time. I’m convinced that this will be the time when I call it quits and just end it. It doesn’t get any easier. If anyone tells you differently, they’re lying. This depression kills. Literally. This depression is the most painful thing you could ever experience. It doesn’t make it any better trying to remind yourself that it’ll be over soon, it’s just a cycle. Reminding yourself of that, is just reminding yourself that it will be back. Where’s the optimism in that? Push through it one more time, just to reach some pseudo-happiness, just to come back around full circle to this abyss of nothingness?
It’s so difficult to remain hopeful, when you know it’s not going anywhere. It’s so difficult to believe it gets better, when you know it’s going to come back around. It’s all temporary. The good feelings are temporary. The blah feelings are temporary. The low feelings are temporary. This depression reminds you of your own mortality. Nothing lasts forever. And the saddest and scariest thing to me is that when I hear of another person with BP who takes his/her life, while most people are sad and talking about how they left their loved ones, I envy them, I get them. Every single day you will have to face this. Every single day you will have this. You can pray, you can cry, you can medicate, but it’s not going anywhere. From today until whenever your forever is, you will have this. And if the pain that those people felt is anything compared to the pain that I feel, I understand. And in all honesty, I’m so surprised that I’m still here.
Each time that scale slides to the left and the depression begin to seep in, my heart sinks. I try to remind myself of the reasons to stick around, but I’m just kidding myself. I couldn’t give any less of a fuck about anything once that depression comes. Each time it’s anyone’s call. It could be the last time. It could just blow over. No one knows. I don’t know.
I just want to be understood, but it’s difficult to be truly understood by someone who doesn’t live this. A lot of things about it don’t make sense. And a lot of things about it I’m not sure how to explain to the ignorant.
It hurts.
What hurts?
Everything.
What’s wrong?
Everything.
What’s everything?
EVERYTHING.
Is there anything I can do?
No.
Do you want to talk?
No.
Do you want me to leave you alone?
No.
What do you want?
I don’t know.
I can understand how that can be confusing and frustrating. I can understand how that could make your loved one(s) feel helpless and useless.
When I’m not sliding down the scale, I try so hard to make my needs clear so when I get like that, they’re prepared. I try so hard to talk about it and explain it to the people who matter most. So that when I get like this and I can’t speak so clearly, or explain so effectively, they’re prepared. Most people say they want to learn, they want to understand. But truth is, most just say that because it’s the nice thing to say. You explain and explain and explain, and when wartime hits, they don’t know what to do. Then they get frustrated. Then they get angry. Then they cause you to push further away when that’s the last thing you need.
Before wartime, you try to explain that you might be mean, you might be shut down, you might say things that are terrible, but you don’t mean it. You won’t talk. You won’t go out. You won’t eat. You won’t want to move. But you need them to stick it out. You need them to hold you tightly when you’re crying, and not push you to talk about it. You need them to understand that you don’t want to talk. You need them to hug you tighter when you try to pull away. You need them to see through the facade, the fake smiles, and the “I’m okay”s. You need them to realize that the “I’m okay” and “I’m fine” and all of those things are the default. You say that as a reflex. You need them to not be so passive and eager to say, “okay, I’ll give you your space.” Space is the worst thing you could do. You need them to read between the lines. You need them to hear your heart and not the words when they ask you what’s wrong. You need them to be able to read your eyes. You need them to be able to know that there’s more to it than what you’ll lead them to believe. You need them to get that you don’t want pity, or people to worry so you’ll lie and say you’re fine. You need them to be strong for you while you’re going through this. You need them to remind you that you’re beautiful, that you’re loved, that you’re needed, that the world needs you, that no one would be happy if you disappeared. It probably seems like silly things to say, but understand this; if you sat for one day, with some of the fucked up and terrible thoughts that go on in their head, you’d probably off yourself. So suck it up if you feel like an idiot saying “I’d miss you if you weren’t here” or “you’re special to me” or “you matter to me” or “I appreciate you.” Suck it up.
This is the toughest depression I have had to deal with because it’s not just me anymore. It’s so difficult to keep that in mind. I want to just crash and burn and just lay here. I want to starve myself. I want to drink. I want to just run away. But I can’t. I have a hostage inside of this bomb and he didn’t ask to be here. And that shit breaks my heart even more. He didn’t ask for any of this. I just can’t describe how hard it is to be concerned about his life and welfare when I don’t care about my own. He depends on me. While a few years ago I’d probably grab a razor, or just walk out and disappear, or not eat for weeks… I can’t do those things now. I can’t kill a few bottles of liquor, I can’t chain smoke some cigarettes or face a few blunts. I have to sit with this. And the reality is I thought I had this under control. I choose not to medicate. And I saw nothing wrong with self-medicating as long as no addictions were formed or as long as my health wasn’t negatively affected. And now that I’m forced into sobriety, and I have this person whose very life depends on what I do to my body, I have to sit with this. I can’t run from it. I can’t drown it out. I can’t hide from it. And being left to sit with this…..is forcing me to face realities that I didn’t prepare myself for.
I’m sure the average person couldn’t stomach the thoughts that have crossed my mind in the last six days. The tears I’ve cried this week could fill bottles. And it’s not letting up. Each time I want to lay and just pray for it to be over, I feel him. He has no idea that he’s the only reason I’m still going right now. I keep praying that this thing doesn’t get him. If he has to feel even an ounce of what I go through, I’ll never forgive myself. He deserves a shot at normalcy, a shot at happiness… he deserves a normal mom.
I’ll keep hoping on it, and praying on it. He deserves better.
The pain will always be the worst part. It won’t go away. It’s here forever. I just hope that I can push through it and be the mother that he deserves, even if I can’t be the me that I deserve.
She's ByePoleHer 