Saturday, August 7, 2010

The wolf is at my door

What a dark night this is. All around me there is an enveloping blackness. It feels like it is going to consume this small room of light I am sitting in. I hate moments like this- where it seem doom is standing in front of me and fear is at my back. I hardly saw the sun today. I woke up...and just was going to be one of those days. I crawled out of bed, slid downstairs to get some cereal and tea. I briefly met my mother in the kitchen who is always oblivious to how I'm feeling (probably just as well). She hugged me and told me to come and sit outside in the sun. I probably should have listened to her maybe things would have gotten better. Instead I hobbled back upstairs ate my cereal and crawled back into bed where I stayed, undisturbed for the rest of the day.

I have found in my house if this happens no one misses me until I am needed to do some sort of chore. Which is exactly what happened at 6pm when I heard my mother's voice through the floorboards asking me to come and do the dishes. To me the worst thing that anyone can do when I am having an off day is to yell at me to come and do the one chore that I hate most in the world. They all sounded like a circus act down there: "Stephanie!" "Stephanie!" "Stephanie must come do dishes!" "Did you call Stephanie?!" "Where is STEPHANIE?!!!!". Imagine three grown adults yelling all that at once. My pounding serotonin- deprived brain was wishing I had duct tape, a hammer ANYTHING to get them to shut the hell up.

It's really not their fault, they don't know how to handle my depression not many people do anyway. My Dad tries to ignore it, but thinks I'm not "trying hard enough"- whatever that means, my sister is in between thinking I made it up for attention or it's not that big of a deal and I must just "be more positive". Yep. Try telling that to someone whose only thoughts are of slitting their wrists to try and stop the crushing sadness that has plagued them for days- "just be more positive". Only my mother has truly made an effort to understand and I can say she really does try, she defends me when the others want to jump all over me. But her understanding only goes so far and I feel there is this block with her. She is a born- again Christan and believes prayer is my only answer, that and er, herbs. Problem is I am struggling everyday just to keep faith that God actually does exist.

The greatest challenge I had to overcome when I was first diagnosed is the stigma surrounding mental illness. The conclusion that I have reached is that just because someone doesn't understand my illness does not mean they are bad people- some people have the capacity to understand and accept while others don't. I can't hold it against my friends and family who can't stand with me in this fight. We can still have a relationship it just means that there will always be a part of me I can't share and they will never know.

Still when that group consists of most of your family it can really hurt and it makes trying to conquer this disease so much more lonely. Right now they are all in bed dreaming while I sit up alone to fight off the evil thoughts that seem to be swirling in the darkness surrounding this room, waiting to pierce my brain. I can't wait for dawn. Tomorrow I won't make the same mistake I made today I WILL get up out of this bed and face the day. That is FIGHTING. Unfortunately those damn dishes still await me tomorrow morning.

I always find identification to how I'm feeling in art in every form. I really liked this song and the video when it came out. It represented best some of the swirling, outlandish thoughts that I would have late at night.

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