There’s something sad about feeling different around people who don’t know about your “invisible illness.” Bipolar disorder is an invisible illness because it isn’t obvious, you can’t see it, and no one would ever guess that I am on Social Security.
When is this feeling worst? Places like daycare. I hate picking up my son because I feel like the crazy parent even though the other parents and teachers have no idea. I see the parents, picking up their kids after work, and know that I’m not like them. I struggle with work, if I could do it, I wouldn’t be on disability.
I am acutely aware that I’m not like the other parents, and I have to work hard not to feel less than them. Jack and I have a good relationship, and we love each other, but I see myself at the daycare and start to doubt my parenting ability.
Patience is not my strong suit. I’m not very patient with Jack. It takes mindfulness to be more patient, and while I’ve been working on it, it’s hard. This particular problem isn’t exclusive to people with bipolar disorder. But for me, it’s a symptom I’ve always had trouble with, because irritability is an unfortunate manifestation of my bipolar disorder.
I don’t want to feel different than other people, or doubt myself as a parent, and it’s something I’ll work on in therapy. Will it get better? I hope so. I believe just being aware that it’s going on is a step in the right direction.
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I saw this card today that I was going to get for my bulletin board. It read:
“The only normal people are the ones you don’t know very well.”
And while I know it is more than that, and that this is something that is felt at a different level than just not fitting in or seeming the same, but there are layers of doubts (for lack of a better word) and what not – it does help me sometimes to think that the “other” is not as together, or perfect and capable, rather they are just different. And maybe some of them also have bipolar or other disorders, if it is invisible on us (even though I swear it often does NOT feel invisible), then it is on them too. And maybe I see them and it is there, in this meeting place of children and caretakers where I know there is a sense of unintentional comparison and desire for likability and approval from people who see your kid more than you (for pretty much every parent), that THIS is where they try hardest with their mask. Fit it the tightest and make sure it hangs straight and perfect.
My psychiatrist told me a story this week about a woman she knew who always seemed perfect – beautiful, thin, intelligent, great people skills etc., just one of those women that seemed perfect in every way and consequently Carol (my psychiatrist) felt inadequate around and felt all of her own, real or imaginary, flaws constantly. Anyway, at that perfect woman’s wedding she was just sobbing. Sobbing down the aisle, at the alter, etc. and Carol said that it was weird because she was clearly filled with so much emotion and so much behind it that everyone was sort of shocked. But that it made her human, and in that way, perfect and real, in a way that all things can be.
As a side note, I appreciate the opportunities to know the humanness of my psychiatrist.
In the words of Dr. Keith Dempsey (my prof), “Just keep on livin’ on!” Because really, that’s all we can do. Do the work. Take the step. Trust in the process.
Meditate once by Tuesday morning at 8am. I will too. Keep each other accountable. Deal?
And I succeed again at keeping my reply LONGER THAN YOUR BLOG. oops.
heather recently posted..You Became Who You Are
Well, this is one of my shorter entries, so don’t feel bad. Yes, we can keep each other accountable for the meditation. I’ll text you and demand to know if you’ve done it every day (not really).
That’s a great story from Carol. Right on. It’s true that I have no idea what’s going on with the other parents, or the teachers, and it is basically all in my head. It makes me never want to go in the daycare, which isn’t cool since he’s going to be there for another year.
All the matters is Jack doesn’t know. He has no idea that I feel the way I do, or that there’s anything really different about me, and I like that. I never want to use bipolar disorder as an excuse for being a jerk. Although I have done with that nearly everyone – even you.
On Twitter recently there was a day or week when people were posting about “invisible illness” which is where I came up with that today. It truly is invisible, no matter how we feel. No one knows unless we tell them. No matter how much I used to think people were starting at me in Safeway, thinking I was crazy, they really weren’t. Right?
No they weren’t staring. Remember I have called you and been like, “This is what just happened. Was that likely to have been obvious to anyone but me?” Which usually it is no. But sometimes I do think, when our symptoms are more prevalent (I am making it sound like herpes or something) that it is more obvious that something is different. BUT that doesn’t mean strangers notice at all or that friends are like, “HEY! YOU’RE BIPOLAR AREN’T YOU???” (because in my head people who say things like that say it incorrectly so I might as well fake-quote them that way) just that it is different.
Similarly, I love hearing kids say things like, “I’m different. I don’t want to be normal. Calling me normal is an insult!” (or something like that) That is something I said growing up. Little did I know that I would spend part of adulthood praying for normalcy and then the next part trying to learn what it means to just be me and to dis-spell the illusion of both normalcy and the idea of there being a poster board on my head that says “freak” or “mentally ill” – both things are false in case I am unclear in my rambles.
heather recently posted..You Became Who You Are
Ha. On the “HEY! YOU’RE BIPOLAR AREN’T YOU???” thing, I’ll never forget when I was an intern at DHS and this woman who sat a couple cubicles away from Allyson came up to me in the copy room and told me I was SO calm. She couldn’t even imagine me getting upset. And I showed her my bruised knuckles from punching the wall. That’s the kind of thing that leaves me shaking my head. People apparently can’t tell I’m as crazy as I am!
I used to think I never wanted a normal life. That normal was boring. Now I also strive for it in a way. I think my life is currently about as normal as it’s ever going to be, and I’m fine with that.
Sorry that I’m laughing at the poster board on your head that says “freak” or “mentally ill.” I’m pretty sure I’ve felt for years that I’ve had the SAME poster board on my head.
But it’s not over either of our heads. People don’t know! Even if they suspect, they can’t be sure….unless we tell them. Just don’t write a book telling the whole world the sordid details of your life and you’ll be fine!
I aim to cause laughter. You know that.
I’ll have to tell you my story about my version of my friend’s fancy honeymoon.
heather recently posted..You Became Who You Are
Well, you often succeed at causing laughter. And yes, I look forward to hearing about your friend’s fancy honeymoon. Not like my honeymoon, which never happened….
Not nice. I’ll claim our trip to Jamaica for Jenn’s wedding as our late, late honeymoon.
Well this is my version of her honeymoon, not based on anything she has said.
And I am unfamiliar with the concept for us. I am thinking one day India. The Himalayas.
heather recently posted..You Became Who You Are
Ah, your version. It will no doubt be hilarious.