Saturday 1 March 2014

knocked sideways

Tonight I feel like roadkill. Seriously. It's not just the fact that one or more of my kids has been seriously sick each week since mid-December, sparking rounds of doctor's visits, sleepless nights, prescriptions and even a trip to A&E last week. Or that I'm staying up far too late at night working on this blog, or that working on this blog has made me confront things in myself that I haven't really faced for a long time.

No. This week one of my sisters took an overdose. She survived unharmed - a miracle - but it feels like the past just reached out and dumped us right back into the pain.

I did say I wouldn't share my siblings' stories but I want to share just a little of this one because it's relevant, and because I'm so angry at the bipolar disorder - a chemical imbalance causing extreme depression - that has made her life such a misery.* I don't think she'd mind me sharing because she is strong and honest, and like me she's always wanted to help others get free.

Her battle with depression began somewhere in her mid-teens - she'd spend hours alone in her room, moody and withdrawn, often coming out only at night when the rest of us were asleep.

One of the first times she overdosed, I was the one to knock on her door. She'd just come back from a rehab centre, bringing with her a fellow patient so scarred by the past that she was just an empty shell, almost soul-less. I opened my sister's door to find this goulish 'friend' sitting beside the bed while my sister lay unconscious, an empty pill bottle spilling from her hand. The rest is a blur - ambulance, sirens, that tight dizzying feeling at the pit of my stomach, willing her to live, wondering how she could possibly hurt so much that she wanted to end it all.

Then I left home and the next several times I wasn't the one to find her, but the phone calls were almost as bad. There was always the fear that we'd lose her, but - please God! Thank-you God!, He always intervened.

From Pinterest, exact source unknown

I've never suffered the extreme of a bipolar episode - but I've tasted ordinary depression and seen how it sucks away everything that brings you joy, making life appear empty and meaningless. I can only imagine that bipolar is that emptiness times the power of infinity.

Right now I'm feeling my sister's pain so acutely that it almost takes my breath away. I'm shocked at how much it's affecting me, but perhaps because I thought, after 10 years of doing so well, she was safe. It's also forcing me to look deeper into myself and realise that I too am still far too fragile and affected by grief.

I'm guessing that my sister wonders, as I do, who she would have been without the abuse. But I believe we are better people because of it. Better - with a price. We have an understanding of grief and despair that can only be gained by living through it. We can listen and empathise and help people walk through emotional pain without giving them easy answers because we know what it feels like to be in those shoes.

So, sis - you are strong (so strong!), beautiful, intelligent, creative - and I love you so much! There IS light at the end of this tunnel - please hold on until you get there! And if you don't have the strength to hold on, please let go and let the rest of us hold on and be strong for you. One day the shoes may be on the other feet! xxxx

* Click here for more info on bipolar disorder

2 comments:

  1. " I'm guessing that my sister wonders, as I do, who she would have been without the abuse. But I believe we are better people because of it. Better - with a price. We have an understanding of grief and despair that can only be gained by living through it. We can listen and empathise and help people walk through emotional pain without giving them easy answers because we know what it feels like to be in those shoes."

    This is so true Laurel, i dont know what or who you would have been without going through the pain you have gone through, but i do know that because of that pain you are my dear close friend who is there for me. I connect with you BECAUSE of the depth that is in you. God has bestowed on you a crown of beauty instead of ashes.

    You have worn the shoes, you have walked the walk, SO you are comfortable with other peoples blisters.

    You have a gift, but it has come at a price, we need more people who are willing to show the scars on their feet too help the rest of us walk our walk with hope in our stride.

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  2. aww, thanks Lesley! esp as it's feeling a bit lonely here in blogland!! xx

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