A Picture Worth A Thousand Lies

Last week I posted a series of family pictures on social media from a week off we had all shared together. An hour later I flipped through the images and I froze… seeing the happy, smiling faces in the images and I realised that I couldn’t do it. Quickly, although a couple people had already ‘liked’ the images, I changed the privacy setting so that only I could see them now.

This week I looked through them again and I changed my mind again… why was I hiding them? Who cares? So again I changed the privacy setting back to ‘friends’ and I added more pictures from the last couple of weeks.

But as I’ve continued to think about it, the thoughts coming back to me constantly… I wondered again, why? Why do we do this? Why do we present something so different from our reality to our friends and family? Why don’t we share the whole truth? The whole story?

For me, this picture in particular, hits me the hardest every time that I see it:

It’s the first picture that I’ve been able to get of our family of six in quite some time. The kids are getting older, schedules are getting busier… and quite frankly… nobody has been in the mood to pose for the typical happy family, wall worthy, portraits.

Today, I didn’t crawl out from my bed until after 9am… a habit that has formed this week as I have struggled with intense insomnia – not falling asleep until early morning on most days, and even then… it’s broken, rough. Even still, as I write this post, my energy is lacking… my focus all over the place, and my mood downright low.

This isn’t new… the last several months (nearly a year) have been some of the hardest ones I’ve ever faced. Sometimes I’ve shared tidbits – if you know me in real life, you might have a few more of the pieces to what’s been going on… but for the most part, I’ve tried my best to push forward, put on a front, and smile through the pain.

Last September I made an educated decision to completely stop my mood medications. After dealing with side effects that included rapid and uncontrollable weight gain (that I’m only just now beginning to get control of again), shifts to my metabolism, a complete hormonal imbalance, lack of focus, drive and energy, and only partial mood stabili

sation – I made the decision to wean off the meds (slowly and carefully). At first – I hid this fact from anyone who asked. Not because I wanted to lie to them, or because I was trying to hide it… but because I felt like it was easier, and I was confident in my decision – I honestly wasn’t interested in hearing anyone else’s opinion on the matter. I needed time to try and reset my body. I also wanted to see if I could figure out how much of my diagnosis was true genetic/chemical, and how much was in relation to my lifetime environmental settings.

Going through the fall, Christmas, and then a long and dreary winter was difficult… but not impossible. Watching my moods, reaching out for support, and trying to maintain some semblance of a routine helped quite a bit. And even through relationship difficulties, financial instability, and fluctuating chemical/hormonal balances as my body adjusted… I survived… some days better than others.

But as February hit… the pieces began to crumble within me once again.

Already in a rough patch, I made some poor decisions in the midst of an already messy situation which resulted in (what I believed was) the end of a close friendship, a termination of my steady counseling, and even further marital stress.

Less than two weeks later… as I was scrambling on my own to find some steady footing… I discovered that some of my driving triggers, fears, and paranoid ideas… were not so wrong afterall. 

Uncovering an entire marriage worth of secrets, lies, betrayals, and twisted manipulations… I began to spiral down that familiar deep, dark, hole again.

But something clicked in me.

Maybe it was years of counseling and work on my mental health... maybe it was some sort of strength and determination… or maybe it was exhaustion; I’m not really sure. But I actually muddled through the darkness and fought my way beyond depression and anxiety, behind paranoia, and a potential psychotic break. It wasn’t perfect and at times it was beyond messy… but I kept going.

And since then, the last five months have been up and down… new triggers added each day as I face a tough season in my life.

As I’ve tried to swim upstream, some days I’ve felt dragged under by the current. Some days I feel like I’m just drifting, and others I’m caught in a riptide, being dragged out of the stream and out to sea.

The last five months I’ve been trying to build very basic pieces of myself to figure out who I am, and where I belong… as well as what I’m capable of. Because somewhere along the way, I fell apart… my brain actually changing, becoming different and unfamiliar. Things that I could previously do, no longer within my capabilities. Focus, thoughts, and triggers…. They were there but unrecognisable. Somewhere within me, and at a very basic level… I somehow broke down even further. The shift so strong, that I can barely recognise myself.

I want to keep pushing through this, but there are some things, that no matter how hard I try… I just can’t seem to grasp anymore.

Recently, my mental health has taken another blow.

Throughout my life, my history with mental health, stress, triggers, and all of the ups and downs… nothing has mattered more to me than my family… and in particular, my children.

Recently, my oldest son, decided to move out… at sixteen years old.

The situation is complicated and I won’t go into it here. But as strong as I am, and as much as I am the adult in the house, and as much as I only want what is best for him… my heart aches.

And with that ache, comes all of the words I’ve had thrown at me over the years. The reminders that I am not good enough, that I am not doing a good job.

My worst fear has come true.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow… I don’t dare to even try and figure that out.

I want to say that I will find my strength and rebuild the way that I always have… I will come out of this on the other side with funny stories, and battle scars, and a life that I am sure about. And while I am working to muddle through this entire year’s worth of pain and instability… I’m not sure what the other side will look like.

But as I look back at the pictures from just a few short weeks ago, I want to cry... not because of the images, but because that picture is all of the lies that I want to believe.

I want to believe that we are the family presented in the photo. That years of mental health and devastating blows, haven’t taken their toll on this family.

And I wanted to share all of this, because this is the reality.

Tonight I’m sitting at home, my face streaked with tears as I try and pull myself together to watch a movie with our youngest two children. The oldest one is not here right now, and I feel the missing piece with every breath I take. Our second oldest is away at camp for the summer – gone for six weeks. Another ache, knowing how much I miss him. I ache for my youngest two, who are witnessing changes, stress, and heartache… who ask questions and miss both of their brothers right now. The younger two who spend the most time with me, and who notice the changes… but don’t fully understand why.

So tonight I’ll share this post. Because a picture? It’s worth a thousand lies… and if we want to end the stigma against not just mental health, but about all of the triggers that can influence a major breakdown, and that (specifically) a person struggling with mental health needs support in; then the only way to do that is to keep on sharing. Share those pictures of the smiles through the rough times. But share the hard stuff too... because words are just as powerful when filled with truth, pain, love, and support. 

So today, my family is broken. My mental health is struggling. I’m barely able to get out of bed in the mornings, or to respond to calls or texts from family and friends. I’m exhausted and I don’t know if I’m doing anything ‘right’ at all.

And I know I’m not the only one feeling this way.

So let's be real. Life is messy. It’s painful. And it will get easier, if we open up and let each other in.