This weekend was an eye opener, and a big one at that. It’s decision time. I need help, but I’ve no idea who to ask or where to go, because all avenues feel pretty closed off right now. My GP has been so lovely, but this is beyond him and he doesn’t know what to do. Therapist can only give me 50 minutes a week, and while it’s 50 minutes I badly need, it’s not enough, nowhere near. Psychiatrist? Well we all know how that one went.
Saturday was wonderful. Saturday I realised the immense freedom of being with a group of like minded people, people who know what I’m talking about, how I feel, and aren’t afraid to talk about it. Who don’t use words like ‘suffering’ in relation to their illness, but speak about management of their condition, getting through the bad days, acceptance of who they are and being able to recognise and act if things getting difficult.
Yesterday I was back in the real world, the world where not only am I currently severely limited in terms of my own abilities, I also have responsibilities that I cannot let drop. It’s strange to simultaneously feel lost and alone, and trapped. It is as though I am walking around in a tiny glass box – there’s room to move, but only just, and I can see all around me, but at the slightest provocation with walls will press in on me and make it almost impossible to breathe, never mind think and act rationally. The smallest, most insigificant incident will spark a rage – things happening too fast, too much noise, plans changing – you know, normal life. My life. If I’ve learned anything from the past couple of weeks, it’s that the level of work I need to put in, daily, to keep myself even close to well, is unsustainable – an hour of yoga, one to two hours walking, meditation, quiet, writing – all well and good if I didn’t have a family, a job, and bills to pay. But I do have all of those things.
So, here’s the question – what the hell do I do? How do I manage this when I’ve been told by the very people I’ve been relying on to help me that there’s nothing more they can do? Do they have any clue how utterly terrifying it is? Do they know how it feels to watch your husband coming apart at the seems because he can’t cope with much more, knowing you’re the cause of that distress? Or the guilt that comes swiftly on top of yet another insane burst of anger over absolutely nothing? The very real feeling that I’m nothing more than a destructive force that is pulling my family apart? I’m going to go ahead and answer that one on their behalf. No, they don’t. They haven’t a fucking clue. They don’t know me from Adam, they haven’t read my file, don’t know my history and they do not listen. Instead, they send me packing with utterly useless advice, and leave me to work it out for myself. Slight flaw with that plan – I cannot work this out by myself. Not any more. It is beyond me.
|Except my relentlessly hopeful person told me there’s not much more they can do…….(Image: Hyperbole and a Half)|
So where to next? I have absolutely no idea. I sat down with Hubby last night to try and talk about this, to try and work out where to turn, but we have no answers. We’re not able to support each other, because we’re both too busy trying to stop ourselves from falling apart completely. This is not a good place to be. It’s scary as hell, and right now, it’s all my fault. If I wasn’t as I am, there would be no need for all of this angst. I appreciate that yes, technically, it’s not my fault in that I didn’t ask for this. But, I’m not able to manage it, or at least not in any way that’s realistic and sustainable. That is my fault.
So as far as I can see, here are my choices. Keep going as is, trying and failing to find a way through that works and continuing to take it out on those around me. Or, throw my hands up in defeat and get back on the ridiculous merrygoround that is the public mental health care system, and go back to medication that so far has left me foggy, somewhat, although far from completely stable, and with horrible side effects. If anyone has any thoughts on which is the lesser of two evils I’d be so happy to hear them.
Right now? The house is quiet. Everyone is gone. I think the sun is shining, but so far, I’m in bed with the curtains closed and I’m not inclined to change that. I can hear this tiny little whisper at the back of my mind telling me it will help. I can see myself walking down to the lake with my dogs, once more in awe of the beauty of where I live.
|I took this last week on a day I managed to get out|