It’s hard to go through depression. It’s hard to have suicidal thoughts. It’s hard to be put in a hospital. It’s even harder to get back to reality.
In the hospital, everything is easy. People tell you what time to go to bed, what time to get up, what time to eat, take your medicine, when you go to therapy, when you can go outside. You’re cut off from social media and the outside world, there’s a whole world living inside a building. And it has its own schedule, its own ebb and flow.
The reality of the world is that life doesn’t work like that. There is no one to tell you when to do something. No one to make sure you’re following your meds. Mostly you’re on your own. And then there’s work, life in general and the stresses that brings, social media, and your very own mental illness to deal with.
When the doctor tells you for the first time that you’re bipolar, it can be jarring. It’s not something that people want to hear. But it doesn’t have to be something that brings you down. It doesn’t have to label you. It just means that you have to manage the world differently, keep up with the medications and doctors visits, go to therapy if that helps you, make sure you get adequate sleep, eat right, things like that. But you learn to manage with that. And you can. It’s been done before, you can do it.
And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m here to help. I’m here to make sure you take your meds and eat, but you have to let me in too.
I’ve been in the hospital, I know how low stress it was compared to out here. I know what it’s like to not want to face the reality of going back to work. I also know how it feels to not be able to do it, not be able to face it. And I can tell you that it’s ok.
The point is, I’m here. And I’m ready and willing to help when you’re ready.
If only it were that simple. Pick up the shattered pieces that litter the dusty floor of my psyche. Maybe then everything could make sense. But right now, nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. And I don’t know what to do.
I’ve always been the one on the other side. The one getting treatment, the one being in a crisis. Now, now I’m the caregiver. And now, well now I’m stuck because no one will give me any information about my loved one. Now, I feel lost, confused, bruised, broken, sick, tired, and numb, all at the same time. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t feel like doing anything. Writing this, well, this is just a journal, words spilling out of my fractured mind. I feel fractured. Did I break?
I’m supposed to be strong. Be strong he said. I told him the same. I told him I was fine. But I’m not. I’m anything but fine. I can’t even fake a smile. I try, and it just comes out as a grimace. There is no joy. No light.
I’m surrounded in darkness right now. I don’t see the light. There is no light. I feel like there may never be light again. I try to sorround myself with people so I won’t be alone, because when I’m alone the shadows are there. They came back just yesterday. Playing on the edges of my vision, but I saw them.
I’m slowly going insane, aren’t I? But I’m not allowed to. It’s not about me. It’s not my time. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be the one to carry us right now. To keep going no matter what. And I can’t. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
Crying… Well it happens whether I want it to or not. I’m not in control of my tears anymore. They comes as they please, and I just have to sit there in the waves as the tide of sadness rolls in. At least I’m not screaming anymore.
I hit myself. I couldn’t control my hands. I broke. Something in me snapped. I had to just ride it out. There was no one to help me. Just me. Even the cat left me.
Get it together, honey, they say. Pull yourself together. If only they knew just how impossible that seems right now. He’s the glue that holds me together. Without him, I’m just pieces lying on the ground.
My dearest love,
I miss you. I wish that I was by your side as you’re going through something so profound, something so brave. You’re going through the hardest days you’ve ever had to face, and you’re facing them alone. But, please, know that I’m with you in every way I can be.
I miss you. I miss your smile and your laugh. But those have been missing for a while now. So maybe, when you get home, those will return with you.
I want you to know how proud I am of you. You’re making progress and taking care of yourself. I’m proud. I’m a proud wife. You’ve been working so hard to take care of everyone and everything, it’s time to take care of you. But I’m proud of you, because what you’re doing is brave. It’s going to make you better and stronger. You’ll look back on this and be thankful for the experience that you’ve gained, the skills that you’ve learned. I’m proud of you.
I know you’re scared. It’s a scary place, a scary time, and you’re alone. But you’re going to be ok. We’ll be ok. You’ll come home soon. You’re so brave, you’re braver than you think.
I can’t wait til you get home. We’re going to be stronger together. The girls miss you, but not as much as I do.
You’re brave Babe, braver than anyone I know. And you’re strong. I just need you to hold on a little longer.
I love you to the moon and back.
My heart hurts.
Last night was the first time I’ve been on the other side. The one letting someone take the one I love into a hospital, knowing that I’m going to have limited visitation and calls. Watching security guards surround him as he tried to go home. Because all he wanted to do was go home. Watching as the police came to get him, to take him away from me where I could not follow.
Last night, my heart broke. But I know it’s for the best.
Suicidal thoughts have a way of sneaking up on someone and taking over everything. They consume and they do not discriminate. Depression doesn’t care if you’re white, black, hispanic, male, female, gay, straight, or bi. It takes and it takes all.
So when you say that you’re depressed, I listen. And when you say that the images in your head are scaring you, I’m scared for you. Because I know exactly how that feels. To be trapped in a cycle of images that ultimately want to break you, break your mind and spirit and your heart. Its hard, it’s scary. But you don’t have to do it alone. And when you say you need help, were going to get you help.
Last night I felt like my world was ending. I know it’s not, I know it’s for the nest, but it hurts. My chest hurts. My heart hurts. Breathing hurts.
Last night I felt like maybe I made a mistake. The doctors give you weird looks when you tell then you’re suicidal. Sure they say they want to help, but do they really want to?
Last night I took my husband to the er because he was struggling. He was struggling more than I could help him. I’m only human, I’m a CNA not a doctor or a nurse and I can only do so much to help. So I took him to the er.
For the first couple of hours he was ok. But as the night dragged on, because you know they take their time, he wanted to go home. So he wanted to leave. We unhooked him from the machines. He was feeling better and he wanted to go home. We put his shirt on and headed out the door. The nurse called security. Did you know that if you tell the er that you’re suicidal they put you on suicide watch and you can’t leave unless you’ve been cleared by a doctor? And usually the only way you’re leaving is to go to another hospital. They called security. We made it to the parking lot. We were surrounded by 4 security guards with attitudes. He just wanted to go home. They took him back inside and searched my purse. It hasn’t been an issue until then. Finally at 3am the cops came for him. They took him away to the mental hospital.
Love can be a hard thing. When you love someone, you want wants best for them, even when it’s scary for you. I’m scared for him. I know he’s in the best place he can be right now. But the not knowing is killing me.
I love you baby. And one day this all will make sense and will be nothing buy a memory.