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This is long and the editors/moderators can edit if they like. It comes from my blog called "Life interrupts sometimes".
Today, as has been in the last several days in particular, I have not been in the most positive of moods. In fact, I've been downright negative and as one person said "nothing will suit". This I acknowledge is true.
I also acknowledge that I've been "venting" this negativity yet at the same time apologizing to those who have had to hear it. Today it was my father.
He was very quick to tell me that there had been a period of 2 weeks where I was sending emails to the family daily about how bad I felt, that I was suicidal, that something was terriably wrong. I was, as he called it "ramming it down our throats daily". It wasn't that they (the family) didn't want me to tell them when I felt bad, they just didn't want to constantly hear about it. I became a bit saddened when told this.
For years my family didn't want to hear about my depression, my feelings of suicide, my feelings of worthlessness. They didn't want to know and didn't want to hear. So for many many years I simply didn't tell them.
Oh, they all noticed something wasn't right but "it's just ..... being herself" or "there she goes again, can't you ever have a happy day?" or the real kicker was "you just suck the ever living life out of everyone who comes in contact with you, I love you but, you just suck the life out of everyone." Positive feedback for a depressed and often suicidal person to hear, wasn't it?
Now, they know about the Bipolar and are slowly getting it that something is wrong. Issue now is; they wanted me to tell them thus opening the floodgates of years gone past where I wasn't to bother them with it. So, I've been telling them.
Now they want to help me, don't know how, don't fully understand how my brain works at times, and do not want to continue hearing me "whine" as they've called it. Even worse, my previous therapist suggested today that I "put a cork in it, give them some space and time and then they'll come around."
See (little past history) I grew up with a mom who was BP herself (this wasn't known until a few months ago). She refused to seek help and to get medication. As a result, and I being the shy timid child, I received the full force brunt of her illness and all of it's ugliness.
My other 2 sisters didn't get away unscathed either for we were all physically, emotionally, and psychologically abused from an early time. We all suffer from that abuse in one way or the other but each differently. As I told my sister's, we are all Lora's children.
We were "trained" well as children and I especially had whatever dignity and spirit completely crushed beyond repair early. I was to keep my mouth shut, not complain, smile, do as I was told and/or expected (changed daily), and to be a good little girl. My problems were insignificant, no one wanted to hear them, no one cared. This lasts until this very day.
So, now I am to "put a cork" in expressing my feelings of suicide, worthlessness, hopelessness, etc... because my family feels that I've rammed "it down their throats daily". My father ended by saying how he wished I could find someone else to talk to. I guess to find a fresh ear and leave his and the other's alone.
So quiet I will be once again, alone in my struggle and suffering, be a good little girl, for my feelings and thoughts are insigificant, and smile. Tell them, I'm fine and doing well. Tell them, the day is a good day and I'm feeling better (lie), and they will be happy and go about their busy lives thinking I'm taken care of.
Quiet and thinking my thoughts to myself once more. Alone and isolated forever I'll be.
I am so sorry you're in the middle of this deep depression and no one in your family wants to hear about it. I remember my mother saying to me once, "You never were a happy child." Her answer, when I was a depressed teenager, was to make me a cup of tea. But actually, that's the only way she knew to help, and now I wish she were here to make me that cup of tea.
I am fortunate that I have one sister I can complain to who will listen when I'm depressed. The other five, I do not bother with my moods. You can usually tell who is interested and who isn't.
But if we look at it from their point of view, imagine how hard it would be to hear day in and day out that your sister or daughter is depressed and suicidal, and you have no idea how to help? If they love us, it is very painful for them to hear what we are going through. That's one reason I don't tell my daughter when I'm really down, because I want to spare her that pain.
I just wish you could get the real help you need from a pdoc to get your meds right. And I hope there is someone in your life who listens.
At least you have us on these message boards. That's why I love writing a blog and/or journal, too, because it allows me to express my feelings.
I really thought that this post was from my sister. The post used so many phrases we used in my family. My father was the one that was BP.
If you are REALLY my sister, you would have already heard my suggestions, but I know how it is about forgeting.
How hard can a childhood be? For decades I was able to hide from it. Hiding in a challanging career; hiding at home with a brilliant son. When the hiding ended, I tormented myself with each and every detail of what went wrong during my childhood. All the therapy, all the medication could not help until I heard myself in my own head. "Why am I picking at these scabs?" I finally accepted that the past was over. No one can change it no matter how they might yearn to do so. I acknowleded my history. I tried to learn what I could from it and then just let it go.
Stop picking at your scabs It worked for me. Maybe it was because of the therapy or the medication or the fact that I was running out of choices. Whatever made it possible at that moment, I stopped tormenting myself.
The funny thing is that the more I refused to let my childhood history ruin my todays, the closer I became to the people in my childhood who had hurt me.
My second tip is this: Try to PRETEND you are normal. Get out of the house. Take a walk. Make eye-contact with someone and smile. Ask a stranger a simple question...What time is it?....Then smile and say Thank-you.
Be kind to yourself. Be honest with your doctor. You can give your family a break by just telling them the truth ... I am doing the best I can...
I like the part of "quit picking at your scars". Scars is all I have and if you pick at them, then at least you feel pain, and know you are at least alive on this spinning molten rock called Earth.
Yes I had a bad childhood and at the time of this posting I was in really bad shape because I was being told to "put a cork in it" from a therapist and that I was "ramming it down" the throats of my family who, until recently, didn't give a damn except to make up a new insensitive remark or joke about me when I didn't measure up to their "happy perky" meter.
My past life is "my life" not much has improved to change that life. That is the joy of these message boards - you don't have to spill everything about your life - nor your feelings, just what is going on at the moment.
I would've loved a different more positive nurturing "SUPPORTIVE" life but alas, I didn't get one. The family that also went through this life with me didn't get one either but for some of them - their lives now are soooo different and positive and cheerful.
I take it either you are not BP or you are BP but have passed the acceptance level and live life to the fullest stage. Wouldn't that be great to reach that stage?
Or you had a positive nurturing supportive family and friends to see you through it all. Oh wouldn't that be great? for me that is, don't have any. I have to constantly perform like a puppet only my lines get tangled and everyone gets pissed at me.
I'm no where near the acceptance stage and have been suffering - yes suffering - from tormenting depression for 30 years with no help as of yet from any medical professional - yet damn it I keep trying.
Hi Marie, Im new to this site, but Ive had BP longer that Ive known about it. Anyway, when I was reading how your family & doc were talking to you I felt the knife go right through my chest. Ive been there, not in exactly the same way but definately the same message. My family has this (silent) motto "if we ignore it, it will go away" BS!! Silence keeps people like us sick. I had an Aunt who committed suicide and when I started having my mental problems I asked my other aunt what illness Aunt P had (we did know she had one) and the answer i got was "I dont really know". I feel if i knew what was troubling her i would at least know whatelse I might need to look for. With family I get the attitude of "F it, I dont need you or your looks that say why dont u just get a grip.But that doesnt make it hurt less. Im crying because I know that feeling of I dont matter im not important thats where ive been for too long now. Sorry Im all over the place but maybe something might help. Thanks.
