To Those Who Have Stuck Around

I had always been the odd one out. Periods of isolation, enthusiasm, obsession, and short-lived friendships were normal for me. I thought it was just girl-drama – that nobody was really as close as those best friends that they portray on television. I didn’t realize or understand that my clique-jumping and inability to really get close to someone (without becoming obsessive, envious, or eventually angry) was really the early stages of my Borderline Personality Disorder rearing its head. I also didn’t realize that my hobby-jumping, sports switching, club shifting – followed by periods of doing nothing – were indications of Bipolar Disorder. To me, I was normal - I didn't understand why I wasn't like everyone else.

He’s been with me for seventeen years now. We have survived through the emotional roller-coaster – the turmoil, the ups, the downs, and the chaos; and some days I truly wonder how we made it.

It’s on these days when I sit and think about it, that I don’t really understand it at all. Don’t get me wrong – I love my husband with all of my heart, but I know that I am not an easy person to live with, and some days I am definitely not an easy person to love.

You see, I didn’t just wake up one day at twenty five years old, suddenly psychotic and breaking down – sick of life and unsure, and well, mentally ill. Looking back through work that I am doing, I can see the traits as they developed through my childhood and early adolescence. I can see peaks and valleys, I can look back on the skewed thinking and my alternate view of the world around me, and now that I know better, I can honestly say that that is where it all began. As the years went by and life became busy and hectic and stressful – triggers were found out and I came up and down and to the edge of the cliff mentally, several times before it all became too much, before I was finally unable to handle it myself, and before I finally began to get help.

Sometimes I was mean and angry – I yelled and I pushed my husband (and others I love) away. I didn’t know how to process things and it was the only defense that I knew and that I trusted. Other times, I was energetic and ambitious – my dreams were infinite and I could tackle the world around me… I was obsessive and perfect, my life looked like a happily ever after to those outside our little bubble. And then, then I would fall – depression would engulf me and our happy family was miserable. I would become isolated, disinterested, hateful, and self-loathing. Everything appeared blackened and I dragged my husband and a few select people through my darkened world as I contemplated life – but more often death. As I threatened suicide, ran from my home, slept in my car, placed myself in dangerous situations, and scared the hell out of people that I desperately wished could help me, but who didn’t know what to do.

And yet, they still loved me. They showed me kindness, forgiveness, patience, and overall love. Even on the days where I believed I couldn’t be loved, and that I didn’t deserve any of it – they stayed. They put up boundaries for their own safety. They stayed awake and stopped me from leaving the house. They called the police. They let me sleep on their couch. They talked to me. They didn’t doubt my heightened feelings. They tried everything that they could, and they kept me safe.

I know that some days were harder than others. I know that at times I drove my husband to the brink with worry for me. I know that some days, he (and others) had no idea what to do. I know that on days where I would disappear and they worried for my safety, they did what they had to – they continued on. They cared for the kids. They cared for my husband. They prayed for me. They confronted me. They took my anger and they made decisions in my best interest, sometimes against my own judgement.

I wish I could say that now that I am stable and on the right track, that things were easier. But that would be a lie. Because when the disease is in your head, in the way you think, react, and control situations, you can’t just turn it off. The work that I am doing helps. It has made a dramatic change in me and I can honestly say that I can handle more of my triggers, better than I ever have before.  But there are still days and moments when I know that I am difficult to say the least. I know that there are days when my husband wishes that I were ‘better’, and that I could just ‘stop’, the way that my brain works. I know that there are times when I do or say or fight for something and he wants to blame my mental health, because sometimes that is easier. I know that there are some days when he wishes there was no mental illness to blame. In other relationships, I know that others do not understand and I know that I still hurt others when I isolate myself or react badly to a trigger or situation.

Trust me. I know.

And I’m grateful. I am so very grateful that they try. I am grateful that they don’t give up, and that I don’t scare them away. I am grateful that they worry and that they check in on me. I am grateful that I am even a thought in their day.

And I am grateful to my husband. It isn’t easy to be married to someone with a mental illness, and we have definitely gone through some very rough times in our marriage, but we’re together… we’re struggling through the murky days and coming out to brighter ones… more often, longer lasting, and more vivid than we’ve ever known.

So on those days that you wonder if what you’re doing helps or if it's worth it, remember - we see it, we feel it… we just can’t always say thank you in the moment.

Keep reaching out to those you love. Keep the conversation going – when your loved one is doing well, ask how you can help when they’re not. Take time to make sure you are grounded, but know that your presence in their life is invaluable when they are struggling. They know it. They’re grateful.

I’m grateful.