Getting Down To The Soul

Every now and then in a person's life, you have to think, "Just who am I, way deep down, as a person?". I know that I have an awful mental disability that sometimes changes my outward persona, but I know too that I am NOT my illness.

Usually, I can feel the changes that come over me now that I am older and know what to expect. They are treatable. An increase or change of medication will bring me back to myself in no time as long as I don't let it go too far. Sometimes hospitalization is necessary. No matter what the circumstances, it is something that I have to deal with, and unfortunately, my 2 children had to grow up with. I have 4 other kids, but they were the fortunate ones. They were sheltered from that storm. I am not ashamed of my affliction. Should I be? Why? Because of the social stigma attached to it? Let society change, I can't. One of my kids became upset because I mentioned to someone that she suffered from depression. OMG! That was "post partum depression!",of course that being more socially acceptable. My youngest two kids, having grown up with mental health issues, accept them as a part of life, and although they don't like dealing with mom during the bad times, they know it's a necessary evil in their lives and life must go on. They also hold a lot of resentment towards their older siblings for leaving it all for them to deal with. And also for shutting them out of their lives as well.

Six siblings, two separate families. All of them my children, but then...not. How very sad is that. On top of mental illness, Rapid Cycling Bi-polar disorder and Borderline Personality Personality Disorder to be specific, I also deal with the split between my kids, and the inability of the older four to accept their mother for who she is. They don't see me as a person, or as their mother. I am an illness. A scary one...and to admit a relationship would be admitting that they too might "catch it". It is genetic after all. I certainly can't blame them for their attitude. My illness went untreated until I was 40. All they have to base their opinion of me on is my behavior and what they were told by their father and stepmother. My own behavior was erratic at best, and because I refused to talk badly about their father, I never explained anything to them about why things happened. I never defended myself. When one of the boys came of the age to choose where he wanted to live, he chose me. His dad said they would talk about it, and I didn't fight for him. He stayed with dad. As each one turned 15, they quit coming to see me at all. The oldest one was the worst. I took it as a total rejection, and treated her very badly. I was supposed to be the adult, but I acted like a child. That was the "mother" they knew. Why would they care about me now? Why they turn their backs on their little bro and sis, I don't know. Maybe it's geography. Out of sight, out of mind. I know it hurts them, and what hurts them hurts me. They are missing out on a lot not knowing them. Three fantastic nephews too.

...and I'm the one in the middle. The "link in the chain". Wanting to be loved and cared about by all of them as much as I love and care for them. Knowing it will never be anything more than a fantasy.

I guess that is who I am. A dreamer...a child of the '70s...peace and love...flower power. I believe that hate and anger are wasted emotions. That doesn't mean I don't get angry, but when I do, I analyze where the emotion came from ie; fear, hurt, pain, and get to the root of it and get rid of it. Hate is just a stronger form of anger, coming from the same place, and nothing is worth that much energy. I save my hate for things like pickled beets and brussels sprouts.

Some people say that I apologise too much. Maybe I do. I'm not comfortable if I think I've done a wrong and haven't apologised for it. The same with thank you, can you ever say it too often? What about just "being there" for a friend that needs to vent or just hang out. I have a friend who will talk on the phone for hours. I hate talking on the phone, it makes my ears hurt. But a couple days a week, I will call her or she will call me and I will spend that couple of hours letting her talk about whatever. Another friend has troubles with the woman he loves, I listen, give advice when asked. It's not a one way street, if you are a friend, you'll have a friend.

Some people have said I'm "too nice". I guess that's being nice to the point of being stupid. So, yes I'm guilty. In the past I have opened my home to the homeless, bandaged the wounds of strangers (and been assaulted for my efforts), given food to the hungry, rides to anyone in need. I'm not saying this to "toot my own horn", because these are not necessarily admirable qualities. I'm either soft in the head or soft hearted. Whichever it is, that is who I am, way deep down inside. Getting down to the soul, I am a pacifist. I believe in kindness at all costs. I don't understand any other way.

Right now, and for the last month, I've been behaving in a manner very foreign to what I know and believe. That is how I know that I am ill. I have a Dr. appointment coming up soon, I hope it's soon enough.

My apologies to anyone I may have hurt, and this comes from the bottom of my soul.