Giving Thanks?

Thanksgiving day tends to be bittersweet when you are uncertain of your future or that of a loved one.  So, I wanted to take this time to reassure you.  A diagnosis of mental illness doesn't have to be a time of sorrow or despair.  There is still much for which you can be thankful. 

Some of our favorite icons have been people who have dealt with mental illness.  Diagnoses of even profound mental illness do not stop people from making amazing contributions to society.  Some of our most famous artists and entrepreneurs have been affected as well.

There are some who believe that ADD and hyperactivity is simply a form of genius.  Beautiful poetry and music are often written by people who are depressed.  All the paintings of Vincent Van Gogh came from the mind of a schizophrenic man who experienced auditory hallucinations.

I personally am thankful today that I have a husband who understands me and loves me anyway.:-)  Despite my depression, anxiety, and occasional agoraphobia, he knows just what I need.  Likewise, my husband knows, based on our eventful sixteen years of marriage, that I would walk to hell and back for him.  I keep him grounded when he is anxious, obsessive, or avoiding sleep.  We both have the spouse God intended who knows us intimately and meets our needs. 

Mental illness, like all things unknown, can be scary at first diagnosis.  And fear rarely evokes gratefulness.  But God has a plan that even a brain disorder can't destroy.  Don't forget that your point of view determines your opinion about your circumstances.  Look at your life with new eyes and find a place of thanks.  Gratefulness may just lead you to hopefulness.

Introduction continued

After my boyfriend confessed that he had bipolar disorder, I thought I took it in stride.  I kissed him goodbye just before I was to report for duty at work.  Then I went to the bookstore where we met and looked up this strange illness.  I had never heard of it.  At the time, in 1992, bipolar disorder didn't have the celebrity press it has today. 

            Bipolar Disorder is defined as a mental disorder marked by periods of elation and depression.  I had heard of manic depression, as bipolar disorder used to be called.  I had a couple relatives about whom those words had been tossed around.  They had also been referred to as 'crazy.'  Thinking about those relatives made me a little concerned.

            I went to call my boyfriend. He said he was fine.  He said that he didn't take any medicine and that he didn't need to.  I wanted to believe him.  So, I took a wait-and-see approach and stayed positive. 

            My boyfriend was charismatic and energetic.  When we walked together, I had to speed up to keep up with him.  We talked on the telephone all night on several occasions.  He talked so fast at times that he couldn't be understood.  He ate constantly, never seeming to gain weight.  He was very jealous when it came to me.  His temper would also escalate out of control when he was angry.  Sometimes, He felt that he knew people's thoughts.  I had never met anyone quite like him.

            We had a beautiful wedding just over a year after we met.  We were happy, I thought.  About a month after we got married, I talked with my husband about a conversation I had with a coworker.  He got so angry with me.  I didn't know what I had done.  I tried to rewind what I had said and pick the conversation apart.  After he finished yelling at me, for what he decided was my disrespect of him, he didn't speak to me again for two solid weeks.  

            As a newlywed, I was thrust into a loneliness and rejection I didn't understand.   My new husband was actively ignoring me, refusing eye contact, not touching me or talking to me.  I began to apologize and beg him to acknowledge me.  I would go into the bathroom and bang my head against the door to drown out the silence.  I believe this triggered my first incidence of major depression.  (I found out later that this condition is called Reactive Depression and is common among the family members and loved ones of people who are mentally ill.)

            This period ended even quicker than it began and was never discussed.  I could drone on and on.  Let me just say in summary that this scenario took place 16 years, five separations, two cross-country trips, two arrests, three civil commitments, over seven hospitalizations, and countless medication side affects ago. This journey through my husband's illness as well as my own has taken me through a lot of workshops and personal research. 

            I write all of this to explain that I do not hold a doctorate degree in any field, although higher education is part of my plans for the future.  But, I have worked to become an expert as it relates to the health of my family.  I credit the National Association for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) for that realization.  Every person who must deal with mental illness has the ability to become an expert.  It is imperative that we do so to become the advocates that our loved ones need us to be.

            I hope you never have to leave work to attend appointments with a spouse who's unable to speak for him or herself.  But as a person who has had to do exactly that, I'm here to tell you that you can live through it.  Not only that, you can be so informed and empowered in the situation that the medical professionals you encountered will ask where you received your training.  In fact, it is my intention to equip you with the information you need to secure the best care possible for you and the ones you love.

           

            

Is the doctor in?

My name is Eboni Armour.  I am not a doctor.  It may seem arrogant or presumptuous of me to attempt to post a blog about health issues without a postgraduate degree of any kind.  For that reason, my first column will be an introduction of the blogger as well as a listing of her credentials.

            On August 23,1992, I was a college student in Missouri.  I was working at a store in a mall.  One day, I took a break to buy a newspaper and mail a letter.  I went to a bookstore across from my job to get my newspaper.  When I arrived, however, there was a man yawning, with his head back and arms outstretched, in front of my newspaper.

            Since my parents raised me right, I waited for this gentleman to finish yawning.  He closed his mouth, put his arms down, and turned to look at me.  I said, "Well, I figured I'd wait so you couldn't bop me on the head."  He stepped aside so I could get my paper.  I walked to the cash register, paid for my paper, and walked out of the mall to mail my letter.  I turned from the mailbox to find the man from the bookstore.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I was looking at my future husband.

            My new friend introduced himself and asked for my telephone number.  We walked back into the mall and I gave him my number. He called me later that evening. We found out that we liked the same things.  We shared the same beliefs. He met my parents before we had our first date.  

            We spent time with each other's families.  We attended church services together.  We talked or saw each other every day.  After we had been dating for about three months, my boyfriend invited me to his mother's house for the afternoon.  He had asked if he could use her kitchen to show me how to make peach cobbler.  As we rolled out pastry crust, I told him that I loved him for the first time.  He responded in a way that I didn't expect. 

            He got very quiet and told me that he loved me too.  He then said that he hoped I could be trusted with his heart because he didn't want to be hurt.  I assured him that I wouldn't.  He then hugged me tight and gave me one of those electric kisses I loved so much.

            A few weeks later, we were walking around the mall where I worked.  We were sort of killing time until my shift started at work.  I asked him how long ago his last relationship had been.  He said it had been a few years.  He told me that he wanted to tell me something, but that he was worried about my reaction.   He thought I might break up with him after our conversation.  I reassured him that he could tell me anything.  We had already proclaimed our love for each other.  I was certain that he had nothing to worry about.

            We found a quiet place to talk.  We sat down making sure that we'd be able to see if anyone walked toward us.  He avoided my eye contact and told me he hadn't had a girlfriend because he had been sick.  My mind started racing.  The only illness I could think of that would be hard to discuss was HIV.    But, we had already talked about that since we both knew people with that diagnosis.   I couldn't imagine anything worse than that. 

            My first real boyfriend looked at me and said, "I have an disease called Bipolar Disorder."  I had never heard that phrase before. I told him so.  I asked questions to see if he could explain it to me.  He struggled to find the words to answer me.  I appreciated his honesty.  I can't say that I remember anything he said.

            I remember the way his face looked when he told me.  I remember how buttery warm his brown eyes looked when they met mine again.  I didn't know anything about this 'illness' he seemed so worried about.  I really didn't care.  It didn't scare me.  I wasn't concerned about anything other than my boyfriend.  I was only concerned that this man, who meant so much to me, understood that his heart was safe.

            I think that's enough for our first visit.  Whether or not you have ever experienced a situation like this one, I'd like to finish introducing myself.  Shall me meet again at the same time next week?  I promise I'll make everything clear then.