hi everyone. i made a decision last night to find a bipolar support group in my city. i already have an addiction support group and that's been so great for me, but i'm the only bipolar in the group and that was fine for awhile. just last night i got really disillusioned with my best friends. the hurtful part of 'recovery' is losing your friends. the isolation has been hard- i don't party anymore, some have died, some think i'm self righteous, some are so sick they can't be around the recovering...but then the other part is the bipolar thing.
i finally came out of denial last summer as i found myself plummeting rapidly towards suicide. I couldn't believe it because i've had depressive episodes since I was FIVE and never felt that close to dying. It scared me because I have much life left in me but I couldn't take the pain and grief (my husband died of drug addiction, so did our best friend, one AIDS, one cancer, and one suicide wiped out most of those closest to me in a four year period. so i had a nervous breakdown after 'being fine'.)
I was told I was bipolar ten years ago in university and took antid's for a year or so and then stopped.I had no notion of what any of it meant, even though I read all the books. mental illness pervades my family- suicide, bipolar, and mom is borderline personality disorder so growing up was hell.
anyhow, long story short- this past year i have finally started 'treatment' - medication, addiction circle, 'structuring schedule' exercise, food, avoiding stress, hell,e ven church! I went from socialite to hermit and the boredom killed me at first but i began to heal a lot and confront the shit inside about mom.
i'm also an artist and writer as i'm sure many of you are, too, so I read the Unquiet Mind lady's stuff on bipolar creativity and so on, fascinated by the lives of artists.
no one seemed to have a problem with me when I was spiralling out of control and making bad decisions on impulse. but now i'm amazed to hear i'm selfish, pill popping, that there's no magic pill, that I shouldnt use mental health as an excuse for not ebing able to deal with my problems,taht everyone has problems, that life is up and down, that Van Gogh was a nutjob, that I'm being a drama queen, that my perspective is skewed now...etc etc etc.
I'm not talking about peripheral acquaintances but my very closest friends. THey used to show me so much care. Now One abandoned me completely because I decided to medicate and she doesn't believe in it.
It makes me sad to see others on this site because their loved ones are bp and they want to know how to be supportive. so far most of my friends aren't even willing to read about it and 'dont buy into it' and don't like my excuses. The funny thing is that I'm NOT making excuses anymore, I'm trying to get my life together. It seems others in our circle are excused of mean, sketchy, odd behaviour but when I try to share an experience of going to meeting or a book or a fear, I am told to stop making excuses. I don't want their sympathy but it would have been nice to have their support as I am all alone. I like being alone, don't get me wrong, Im self sufficient. But it seems the only ones who understood me are dead, because they were fucked up too. But they didn't make it. They loved me as I was, though.
It's honestly no one would miss me if I were gone- don't worry, I'm not suicidal right now, not at all, but it's shocking to know they don't even consider that was a real thing happening to me last year. I mean, I had a nervous breakdown and where was my 'team?' Nowhere. I went for help alone and now my friends can't even support my decisions.
I've been decently stable for the first time in my entire life and have started putting the puzzle into place- not blaming mental illness for my behaviour, but figuring out what was going on, how I could have such horrible self esteem yet be so confident, so sexual, and yet sucha prude...etc. I've kept my distance as I'm terrified of how intense I am, so I hardly see them anymore. But last night we were having dinner and I tried not to let on how much I missed them. Then one said I looked really good and healthy these days and so I risked sharing a tiny tidbit about the changes and was lambasted. I left sobbing and i'm still crying today becuase it hurts to know they don't actually give a damn.
Then I knew this has happened to other people who have been completely invalidated and not taken seriously and I'm guarded that the overwhelming feelings don't jet me back into a deep depression, because the isolation and grief...I resolved to find a bp support group. SO here I am, a desperate, needy, messy, whiny soul spilling open. What hurts most is that I know even after all those friends passed away I have to let these go, too. I was going to write them a letter with a bp flyer attached, but the truth is, if they were interested, they would have inquired a long time ago about how to support me.Instead I'm just told not to feel sorry for myself and that it's selfish to think I have a condition when everyone has problems. Except madness, institutionalizion, suicide, and what not run in the family and they know that and I can't wrap my head around it all.
Yikes, longwinded- 'flight of ideas, pressured talking' ha ha...thanks for listening
