Does anyone else feel stigmatized by this illness? I wasn’t officially diagnosed until I was 30 even though I exhibited classic behavior in my teen years, I was simply labeled depressed. Since being labeled bipolar I have kept it hidden from people most of my life. I never filed for disability always struggling through retail or other jobs that earned minimum wage. At one point I became a commercial cleaner. This was the best job I ever had because I could work by myself after all of the others went home and listen to music on my headphones and sing and just not worry about interacting with others. Since I was fanatical about doing a good job and a perfectionist, the job was always done efficiently and done well. I went on to starting my own company in which I ran for ten years. During those years I married and had two daughters which took precedence. Eventually I gave up the cleaning to be a stay at home mom which I also greatly love. Throughout those years I only mentioned to my daughters pediatrician the fact I was bipolar because it can be hereditary and it did turn out that my oldest daughter did get it. In hindsight I could be a bitch as a wife, put my husband through many different factors of my personality, ranging from psychotic mania to deep, deep depression. I would call him at work and tell him to come home and then go to a hotel because I couldn’t take it anymore. This was before I was on medication. My husband was a saint with me. He never complained. I miss him so much, even if I could just talk to him. The only thing that gives me some comfort is that he deserves the rest and love that God offers and that he is young again and never has to work another day of his life.
I had a dream with him in it last night. We were riding in our car together I always used to drive and he was in the passenger seat. We were in a rough part of town and I kept expecting him to steer me out of there to direct me the right way. Instead he kept leading me down one ways that ended in dead ends….they were like people’s driveways and I had to back out. I kept asking him why he was taking me to these dead ends but he couldn’t talk. Even in the dream I knew he was dead but I was asking him because I hoped he would answer me. When I woke up I started to cry because I knew he was only accompanying me for the ride and I was the one driving into all of the dead ends. That exactly what it felt like when I woke up. All week long I have been running into these dead ends and I am asking myself why am I hurting myself so much? I didn’t do anything wrong…depression is killing me, so why help it?
I will try to write more later I need to go for a walk or something because I feel upset and at least on saturday I can leave my house. During the week I take care of my father and can’t leave, so I am going to breathe some fresh air and see if that helps.
Thanks for reading my stuff.