Yesterday was, among other things, World Mental Health Day, as declared by the World Health Organization. In my various experiences through life, I've definitely cultivated a compassion for those dealing with mental illness- but it hasn't been until recent years that it has personally impacted me in any deep way.
Enter my son's father. When we met 4 years ago, he was fairly direct and forthright with me, telling me right off the bat that he has bipolar disorder. In fact, mental illness is fairly prevalent in his family; being something that his mother and both of his sisters face. I admit that when he first shared this with me, despite the initial connection we seemed to share I paused- could I really get involved with someone facing a mental illness? Then I had to ask myself if I would be questioning in the same way if it was a physical illness that he had. No, for me it wouldn't be a question.
And so began my roller coaster ride.
It's difficult to know which parts of our particular roller coaster ride are a direct result of his illness, or actual incompatibility, or one of us being an asshole. Or maybe both of us being assholes. Who knows. But it became less important to know what to "blame" when relationship issues hit us when we became pregnant, which is a story in an of itself. As in probably most cases, once a pregnancy is part of the picture the focus shifts for at least one person. As is for most mothers, being pregnant was transformative for me on levels I didn't even know existed. But the reality of my circumstances punched me in the face when one day, out of the complete blue, he left. I mean, we made dinner plans and when I got home he had moved out. I had no clue what was going on aside from I was 7 months pregnant and suddenly, unexpectedly all alone.
Fast forward a couple of months and he was back, after a couple of weeks in the hospital in Montana and amazingly ready to be a dad. And he was fantastic. But I did learn that his support system outside of mostly his dad was horrible. If you have a friend who has a mental illness, you do them no service by pretending that it has no bearing on their life. Does it rule EVERY part of their world? No, not always- but sometimes yes, and when suddenly that person makes dramatic unexpected changes in their life, it would do them a WORLD of good if you were honest and direct and concerned. Plying them with alcohol, weed, and talk that exacerbates the unreal thoughts in their head- NOT HELPFUL.
About 4 months ago, once again, he descended. And on his way down that first weekend (it was a Friday), I said to him- you know, you seem like you're getting manic- what do you think? He agreed, and was totally compliant in going to the hospital. But that day wound up being the first one in MONTHS of instability that continues to this day, and lots of questioning on my part as to whether bipolar is even really his diagnosis anymore, or if he is now facing schizoaffective disorder. As of this moment since that day in June there have been two calls to the police, one restraining order, 4 hospitalizations including the current one for at least 60 days of required treatment, countless scary phone calls and accusations, one move, thousands of dollars in income lost, countless hours of insomnia, migraines, and other stress-induced illness, two court dates and one pending, upsetting google searches about what could really be going on....basically, it's been hell. And it's sucked. And I've cried and refrained from crying and tried above all else to make sure that my son is as unaffected from this as possible in any negative way. My world revolves around him as a newly single mother with no breaks. I probably could work out something to have a couple of hours to myself, and I will soon- but right now it's important to me that he goes to sleep with me there and wakes up to see me there and has absolute confidence that his day will run on a schedule that he knows. Because underneath all the other things that occupy my mind is the nagging worry that someday my beautiful, funny, smart, kind boy will have to face an illness of his own since there is such a strong genetic influence from his father's side.
But...until then. I take each day as it comes. I constantly strive to replace any negative thoughts with positive ones. I distract myself with silly facebook articles at night when I can't sleep. I give thanks that I work with wonderful and understanding people. I see a counselor once a week (thank goodness for sliding scales!!). I try to find resources to make my life a little more manageable on my own- like the Colorado Childcare Assistance Program because $1300 a month for childcare is impossible right now. I've found a spiritual center to nourish my soul, which was parched beyond belief. Bonus points that there is childcare that I feel good about leaving my son in so that I can have an hour of reflection. It helps- so much.
Mental illness carries a stigma with it that allows us to feel separate and beyond it unless it is in our own lives somehow. We see stories about celebrities that are clearly suffering, and it's so easy to mock or judge or even somehow feel better about ourselves because at least WE aren't crazy and entitled with our money and fame, right? I think it's important to at a bare minimum feel some empathy towards those who are suffering from an illness that is destructive yet mostly invisible. Beyond that, sharing, talking, being open and honest and supportive of one another as we all try to navigate this sometimes harsh world might go a long way in making it a little bit easier. And a little bit might go a long way.
