Coming Out of the Closet

For the last three months I have been playing a little game with myself. No, not that kind of game. My dearest friend Rave at Quid Nunc started a blog and has been telling me since then that I should document my trials and tribulations, my adventures and misadventures, on my own blog. Instead, I have been deligently working to score prime space in her blog as she mentions me (hippie). Although she doesn't tell of my stories, she does mention our exciting lives as we navigate love and marraige and children and anything else we feel like. I love being mentioned in somebody elses website. I am afraid that I will be blacklisted however if I don't claim my rightful blogspace on the web.

Yesterday, she called, and said that since I had written a 'coming out' of the closet type of speech and emailed to most of my friends and family, it was time to document the changes in my life.

I came out of the closet with my mental illness: Bipolar Disorder. Here is a copy of my 'outing.'

Life is what happens when you are making other plans.

For example, during our June 14, 1997 wedding, man-o-mine and I vowed to love, comfort, and honor, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. We moved from Oklahoma City to St. Louis and over the next several years, we got jobs, had children, got better jobs, took on more responsibilities. Life continued to move at breakneck speed, filled with twists and turns, and then our lives came to a screeching halt. I began experiencing severe mood changes (extreme energy and mania and excruciating depression and worthlessness). I became erratic and undependable. Paranoia, hallucinations, delusions were an ever occurring event. On August 24, 2001, I was hospitalized and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

At this time, my family and extended family was forced to make many decisions. All of a sudden my man-o-mine was forced to make complicated choices, including complex medical decisions about my treatment options, what to do without my income and insurance coverage that I was about to lose, how to emotionally support the kids, how to make the house payment. Ultimately, our house was sold, we relocated to Midwest City, and the right pharmaceutical cocktail was found and I began the long journey of recovery.

As man-o-mine and I began to rebuild our lives I began to dwell on all the destruction and disruption my illness had caused. I had lost my job, I had lost my friends, I had lost my house, I had lost everything. Also, I now had a serious mental illness so how could I possibly be productive, creative, member of society, let alone a good wife and mother?
I was also well aware of what my family had given up during my illness. Man-o-mine and the kids also lost their friends, and their house, and their city. They had to start over again with their lives, too.

It is easy to get wrapped up by listing the things we have lossed, or the concessions that have to be made to stay healthy, or the dreams that need to be edited (although never forgotten.) It is easy to be overwhelmed by the after effects of ‘an episode.’ What we need to remember during these times is that we have people cheering for us. It may be family or friends, it could be a doctor or nurse, pharmacist or neighbor. As the Beatles reminded us all, we can get by “with a little help from our friends.”

Thank you so much for being my friend.

For those who are meeting me for the first time through this blog, thank you for reading-- and tomorrow, I will tackle how to handle the pressure of not gawking at the passionate lesbian little people at Walmart.