Disordered

It’s been a while. I fell away from blogging  for a minute. But I find that  I have something to say…
There is a whole universe of people dealing with silent but oh, so very loud diseases. Disorders. They look fine.  Sometimes, on their good days, they even sound fine.  But just because the battles, the screaming, the demons in their heads are invisible, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Oh, believe me, they are there, and they will fight to win every damn time.
From a personal view, I was aware of depression, anxiety, bi-polar or as it used to be known, manic-depressive disorder, OCD. I knew they existed.  Some of them even touched my life. OCD namely, arrived with a bang when I was going through divorce. Katie started washing her hands obsessively. Like, until they were raw.  Not much question that we had a problem. Therapy with Norman did wonders for that and her anxiety.  She’s ok now. Still has the occasional panic attack but knows I’m only a text away to talk her down.  I can deal with that.

Bi-polar, on the other hand, that snuck up on me.  I didn’t have a name for it at first. I didn’t know what was wrong with Stacie.  How many times I hear in my head, my mother saying, “What is WRONG with that girl?”  Bipolar disorder is described as “a mental health condition that causes extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression). When you become depressed, you may feel sad or hopeless and lose interest or pleasure in most activities. When your mood shifts to mania or hypomania (less extreme than mania), you may feel euphoric, full of energy or unusually irritable. These mood swings can affect sleep, energy, activity, judgment, behavior and the ability to think clearly. Episodes of mood swings may occur rarely or multiple times a year. While most people will experience some emotional symptoms between episodes, some may not experience any.”  Common signs and symptoms of mania include:
Feeling unusually “high” and optimistic OR extremely irritable
Unrealistic, grandiose beliefs about one’s abilities or powers
Sleeping very little, but feeling extremely energetic
Talking so rapidly that others can’t keep up
Racing thoughts; jumping quickly from one idea to the next
Highly distractible, unable to concentrate
Impaired judgment and impulsiveness
Acting recklessly without thinking about the consequences
Delusions and hallucinations (in severe cases)
Common symptoms of bipolar depression include:
Feeling hopeless, sad, or empty
Irritability
Inability to experience pleasure
Fatigue or loss of energy
Physical and mental sluggishness
Appetite or weight changes
Sleep problems
Concentration and memory problems
Feelings of worthlessness or guilt
Thoughts of death or suicide
That being said, I often wonder how the hell I missed it for years. It hit full force when we lived in VA. She’d been in the Navy, in Iceland, In Cuba, in East Meadow, not right there where we knew what was going on.  In Norfolk, all hell broke loose. Like clockwork, every six months or so. We’d all be rolling along, living our lives, not hating each other. Then it would start. The paranoia, the stinging comments on social media, the jealousy.  In short, for no reason that we could see or understand, my daughter would go berserk and would aim it at us.  It hurt, I can’t even begin to describe the anguish of my firstborn attacking me when I’d never done any less than love her and accept her.  Every time, I thought, that’s it. I can’t do this again. I’m done. I’m over it. And every time she would get back on track, come back like nothing happened. What I did not know at the time was that as far as she knew, nothing HAD happened. I have since learned that she didn’t have full memory of things she’d said and done.  I do know that much to the chagrin of some, every time, I accepted her back into the fold, not because I understood what was going on, but because, as it turns out,  unconditional love is, indeed, a thing, and it is strong in me.
I won’t go into details about her “rock bottom”, or the phone message I received from out of state, after we’d moved back to NY that, when Katie heard it, she said, “If you don’t call her back right now and find out wtf is going on with her, I will.” I was in total denial about my own daughter being depressed and ready to end it. It’s easy when she’s miles away. She ended up back here, won’t go into those details either but that rock bottom seems to have woken her up.

Some background seems necessary here. Stacie was the first born. First born for me, first grandchild, first niece. As such she was, naturally, a bit spoiled. She never knew her father. I did and she’s better off.  Her first step father, the one she called “Daddy” because he was in every sense of the word, passed on way too soon. It was her first real loss at all of 9 tender years. I always did my best to encourage her, love her, let her know that she was loved, she was worth it. Still somehow her self esteem was always somewhere around basement level. Third time I got married was a mistake, giving me only her sister to make it worth it. Through all of this, throw in the loss of my dad who she was very close to, and my mom, they both had a heavy hand in raising her, and I can see her having some issues with life in general. But nothing like what we witnessed in VA. This was so much more than, I hate you, I hate the life you gave me, you’re scum. This ran so very much deeper.
Gradually my conscious self  became aware of bipolar disorder. I don't specifically remember her telling me she was bipolar.  I knew it was a thing,  just like ADD, OCD, Anxiety, Deperssion….it was just a much more involved thing.  Looking back, I see it clearly. At the time, I thought it was just how she was somehow.
There is a whole lot of baggage that comes with knowing that your child is bipolar. Or OCD or depressed or is afflicted with any emotional or chemical imbalance. Chief among the baggage is a suitcase full of guilt. Says the girl who doesn’t DO guilt. There were many times when I tried to figure out where I went wrong. God knows she didn’t have a fairy tale life. She knew loss far too young. Should I have done this or that differently, what if I’d….would she have….It took years for me to realize that the demons were her own, and that I was not responsible. That doesn’t make it any easier to watch my firstborn constantly fight the demons in her mind, the daily battle just to fight them back. To look at her would you know? No, I think not. That doesn’t make the affliction any less painful. Sometimes the scars you can’t see are worse. She has been, for over a year now, faithfully on meds, getting stronger and saner. I thank God for that, at the same time I’m praying that she stays on the right track. Every. Damn. Day. I know it’s a struggle for her, though she doesn’t say it. 
I cannot imagine the pure hell of living with the demons that she has. I cannot imagine a life where she has to take several different meds just to stay on an even keel,  and even then, they still rear their ugly heads.  I am so very grateful now, though, that for the past year or more she’s been on the right track, in therapy, because that has to, HAS to be part of her life.  We sat after Christmas here for hours, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had my baybeegirl back. I text her every morning, messages of love and encouragement and strength. She responds every morning. She thanks me. She THANKS me. So rare for this beautiful girl, to show genuine appreciation. It’s refreshing. It’s encouraging.  I know the demons are still there, but they are tamed, they are not screaming, ripping at her sanity, shredding her life. I know that some days her grip on stability is tenuous. I also know that when it is she will text me or call me and I will be there to talk her back from the edge. The difference is this time she listens, this time she trusts. Finally, she trusts.

Don’t, please don’t judge harshly if you see someone on the street, acting out, acting oddly, if someone you know, a family member, is acting off, acting “crazy”. You don’t know what demons they’re living with. You don’t know what inner battles they’re fighting. Be kind, be forgiving, be understanding. To be too harsh risks losing a loved one. I came close, I almost lost this girl. Had I lost her, because I was less understanding, I would never have forgiven myself. 

I wish I could tell you that I could make it better
It’s all a rainstorm that you have to weather
But this is your fight and it’s inside of you
But just know that I’m beside you fighting too

 

Come Home~~Antix