They're coming to take me away.....

With a family like mine with some family members who are mentally ill, I think we all wonder if we are mentally ill. We didn’t know what mental illness was. I remember my sister changing when she hit puberty almost the 6th grade. Up until then, we were close and were typical sisters. Suddenly one day I said something teasing her and she went off on me. I didn't know what to say or do...heck, I was only about eleven. To date, I've not had a lucid conversation with her since then. A few veiled conversations but I was never for sure what she meant. It's been 48 years like this.

When she was about 45 or so, she had an episode deluxe and was diagnosed as bipolar. I tracked down depression and bipolar/manic depressive to my paternal side of the family.  My sister and my older brother have a rage that is unbelievable. Both live in their own worlds and their own truths. My sister prefers to sleep predominately and my brother is locked into a negative hateful world where everyone is against him. I tracked down this rage through genealogy to my mother's side of the family.

I know I certainly have the ups and downs….not extremes though. I know I certainly ‘worry’ a lot….digest and redigest something over and over and over in my head…I certainly can’t take any medication for it…all meds either leave me so drugged that I can’t function or the side effects are devastating.

I’ve wondered and thought about over the years how a parent could raise their kids to be crazy….sure, it would be mean as hell, but it could be done. Sometimes I think about the stuff mom (and daddy) did to me...mostly mom and how it has crippled my life at times. I don’t know if I will ever get over it…..when I’m down, I hate her so much but when I’m up or level, I understand how it all happened and why she did what she did and want so badly to forgive her. It all has affected my entire life, my outlook, my choice in men, my choices in life in general and my reactions.  Of course I’m screaming inside hating it, but I can’t or haven’t used my voice to stop the injustice. Sometimes I do find my voice. I can certainly find my voice to everyone but I never could to mom, both husbands and the men I’ve been involved deeply in. I’ve found my voice the most in the last 3 years but results are still the same…it’s like I ask for nothing and settle for less. If I ignore all of the negative and pretend everything is ok, I can function better and everyone gets along…until I start feeling used and it just all blows up inside me.

Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the things that happened to me as a child and since and think that there is NOTHING the book Sybil had on me. That I am not permanently in a mental hospital is wonderment to me. I’ve functioned mostly by learning to withdraw inside myself and live in my craft/art world… put up brick walls around myself and not let anyone in. This works very well for me until I let someone inside and every time it’s left me vulnerable and hurt. I’ve always bounced back but I’m not bouncing back as well any longer.

One thing that Rodina told me is true: I make up these rules inside my head as to how someone should treat me and I don’t tell the person the rules and of course they break the rules and I’m hurt. This throws me into a tizzy inside me. I’m getting better at this but I don’t understand why everyone can’t just have basic respect and caring to others. There are so very few people who give me this unconditionally. There are times that my best friends have given me this but even they have taken advantage of me and used me.

Mostly I overcome my moods by writing and loving. Works for me.