Today I’m taking a quiet afternoon to myself. During the
process of self-discovery and recovery, where I have spent hours upon hours
trying to understand my own thoughts, emotions, actions, and reactions – I have
discovered that I need space. I need time. I need to breathe.
When my husband and I met, we were in high school. Soon
after we began dating, our first son came along – followed by three more
children, college, and careers. Life spiraled faster than we could see coming
and we embraced it. From sun up until sun down we worked – we went to school –
we played with our kids – we paid bills – we rushed around from one thing to
the next. There was rarely any time for anything else. We were young and we had
a family that depended on us.
During this time, my battle with mental illness was just
beginning to pick up its pace. There would be many days where sleep was an
illusion, fighting became my go-to reaction, and life didn’t make sense.
Pushing through, neither my husband nor I really understood why we did the
things that we did, how to change, or even what was wrong.
Of course, life simply can’t continue on forever in a
tangled, confusing, chaotic mess and so when we crashed – we crashed hard. Both
of us faced demons from our past, triggers from the present, and
emotional/mental/physical problems that neither of us was prepared to handle. We
nearly gave up; on ourselves, on each other, and on our marriage. We didn’t
deal with things well – our problems spiraled, my mental health became a
severe mental illness and I almost lost my life.
Since then, life has changed for us.
Thankfully, we have been able to establish an incredible
support system and have opened up to friends and family along the way. Through
our journey – both together and individually we have discovered things that we
couldn’t have even begun to comprehend before this point. Things in our life –
the way that we think, feel, and act are changing – and as our knowledge grows
and we spend hours in self discovery – we continue to find better ways to move
through life – both separately and together.
For me, one thing that I have learned – is that I need ‘down
time’. Without down time my mind becomes muddled – call it chemical, genetic,
or a product of life – it is something that I have learned is vital to my
ability to function well.
Personally – I find this frustrating.
It isn’t that I don’t like life – in fact I do very much
like living a full life. I like to go out. I like to spend time with friends
and family. I like to explore new places, things, and people.
I also like to be alone.
Sometimes I need to be alone.
Sometimes I need to take a break in the middle of the week –
I need to sit on the couch with my feet up and a book in my hand. Sometimes I
need to close my eyes and have a short nap. Sometimes I need to literally sit
and do nothing.
And yes. Sometimes I get frustrated with myself. Sometimes I
wonder why I can’t have endless amounts of energy like my husband seems to
have. Sometimes I wonder why I can’t function in the same way that everyone
around me seems to be able to – pushing through and just faking it.
But I can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.
I have spent countless days in misery as my mind became
overwhelmed with pain and fear and anger and confusion. I have spent time in
the presence of people where I have broken down, unable to continue on a
conversation because I have put myself into a situation that I cannot handle at
that time. I have been to the point of suicide because I simply can’t do life
anymore. I have felt like my brain has been cracking down the middle, fighting
with itself – two sides of the canyon – one side yelling at me to be normal, to
keep going, to just ‘suck it up’, while the other side of me begins to see
things, hallucinate, become unstable, paranoid, or simply dark.
I have fought through instability, mania, depression, and
borderline rage. I have struggled to find level – and I have struggled to keep
myself from falling down a rabbit hole more times than I can count. I have
spent more time than I care to remember in hospitals, in counselling, in
groups, and in study – trying to understand why I just can’t function ‘normally’.
And finally, I have spent time fighting. Fighting with
myself. Fighting with others. Trying to explain to them – what I can’t even
explain to myself. I have spent hours crying because I can’t do what I
desperately want to do. I have spent time debating, explaining, and eventually
silent, because others in my life simply don’t get it. I have felt guilt over
relaxing, and fear over a fight that I was sure to come, if I spent those
moments quietly – if I cancelled plans, or if I just said no.
But now, after years of work. After walking a recovery
journey that fills me both with pride and frustration, I finally have the
confidence to say enough is enough. It doesn’t matter. I don’t question a
diabetic that needs insulin. I don’t question a cancer patient that needs rest.
I don’t question a person struggling with an illness on why they need time to
recover. I respect it. I respect them. And I respect myself.
There will always be people in my life who don’t understand
this need I have for time, space, and silence. But I don’t need them to
understand… now that I understand, I get it. Not everybody needs the same thing
that I do – and not everyone is going to see what not having these things will
do to me. And that’s okay.
I’m okay with that.
And that, is how I know how far I’ve come.
That is how I know – that regardless of whether or not other
people may understand my actions towards my recovery and myself, I know that I
am doing what I need to do – with confidence, with guidance, with support, and
with determination. These are the things that I have learned. These are the
things that will ultimately ensure my success.
So now, I’m going to go sit quietly in the corner of my
couch, my kids sent outside to play in the sunshine, my husband puttering
around the house, and a book in my hands. No justification. No fighting. Just
doing something that I desperately needed to do today, to avoid a break. Just
being me.
