|Sep 23 2010|
I have mixed emotions about this new diagnosis. Right now, I'm just glad to know that I am not alone! I am so glad that I finally know that there is a reason... a real reason why I have been suffering all this time. When I say suffering, I mean times when literally fell on my knees and screamed to God to help me; asking him why I had to hurt so bad all of the time; asking him to just show me the answers; to stop beating around the bush and stick his face through the clouds and speak to me face to face! Oh, how I can still feel the rage I felt. I wanted answers and He wasn't giving them to me fast enough!
As I look back, I can remember bouts of severe depression. I was sick-just walking around with this feeling of guilt, heartache, worthlessness, and shame. For awhile, I naturally attributed each episode to some external occurance. The death of a loved one, my marriage, my job, etc. Unfortunately, if nothing had happened and I had an episode, i attributed it to the death of my mother when I was just ten years old. What I realized recently was, I have long ago accepted her death. It was when I have an episode that her death still haunts me. Life seems so dark and dreary when I am depressed, I turn into a little girl again who wants her mommy. It's hard when the chemicals in your brain tell it to believe that you are all alone and NO ONE cares. So, I spend my time then saying to myself, "If my mother were here, she would love me regardless. If my mother were here, she'd stand up against all of these bad people." I actually cope very well with it when I'm hypomanic. I am aware that she is gone, but It's not on the forefront of my mind. Now that I think back, I can recall the night she died very vividly (25 years ago). I was devistated! However, the people who were around me seem to remember a very different child. They all say that after the initial shock of the news, It was as if I was very unaware of what had happened.
"It was like you were on a field trip," one relative stated.
"You were not able to fully understand the severity of the situation," said another.
Pish posh! I believe that I've ALWAYS been bipolar! I would get doll babies and teddy bears for Christmas, and by April their noses would be pulled off, and their eyeballs would be smashed in and their hair would be ripped out! I was living a double life. I tried to hide the abuse I inflicted on my dolls. I wonder if the news of her death sent me to bed crying, and awakend me the next morning in a different state of mind. Had my mood changed or swung into the opposite direction? Did everyone assume that this was the normal way ten year olds act when a parent dies?
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