Just Reach Out

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I am going through a depressive episode, a few weeks ago I was hypo-manic. “Reach out, it helps healing to reach out,” the collective voices from books I read, podcast I listen to, internet articles aplenty, my therapists say. It is said in the proposition that unburdening of inner pain would bring release and peace. It is said encouraging people like me, plagued with maladies of the mind, to seek external help in times of need to share the weights of the burden. It is cerebrate that this notion resonates with my need for healing. In times of desperation though, this proves a true challenge.

First we address the why. Why would I be reaching out to anyone? The answer to this has varied over the years with life experiences and the managing of the mood swings of Bipolar Disorder that I have been wrestling with. Over the years and hundreds of therapy sessions, I now recognize what I need when I do need help. Sometimes it is simply to verbal vomit and release everything in my mind, sometimes it’s the need to confide my struggles in someone and just have them listen, sometimes it is sharing my struggles and needing consolation or advice, sometimes it is to actually request physical help; with my children or with tasks I had committed to prior to falling into an episode. The why’s  remain the same on both ends of the pole in my experience with Bipolar. The challenges in reaching out because of the why’s dig deep into my skin. I struggle with the shame of burdening anyone with any of these reasons because in my belief, normal people did not have these concerns. I bury myself in the pain of feeling like I am being punished for a crime I had not committed. I feel the guilt of passing on the burden of my pain even if it is just to share so I can stand up again, leaving me listless. 

Then there is the case for the who. Who are they whom I’m supposed to reach out to? I run long lists in my mind, people who don’t know me so well so perhaps even if they judged me in my unburdening it wouldn’t cost me much? Do I call my best friends who have always been there for me? Do I call family members who love me unconditionally?  Do I just unburden to my husband who promised to have me in sickness and in health? All of these options bounce off the walls in my head like a pro game of racquetball back and forth, back and forth slamming on the insides of my brain. 

The acquaintances option seems viable when I think about it. I don’t know these people so well and don’t value the friendships as much as the people in my inner circle. If I verbal vomit on them, I could find release and not worry about them still wanting to be my friend after. Trouble is, I do like these people, in my cycles through episodes, I haven’t yet been able to deepen our relationship. Another downside was that they were usually associated with my children and their friends. Though I know them to be good people who would help me if I made known to them my state of trouble, this would not be the best way to unburden my pain and ask for help.

My friends from my inner circle? I have had close friends who have been steadfast in their support for me, holding me up all these years when I communicated my need for them. I second guess myself every time I pick up the phone to call any of them. Every time I recognize I need help, I try to reach out to them but find myself staring at the phone doubting my decision. Do I want to be that friend? The woe-is-me friend? The jibber-jabber nonstop manic friend? The friend that always needs help? The friend that has nothing to offer in return? Even with friends of whom I have always been assured of their love, I worry I will run them ragged with my pain.

My family? My family loves me unconditionally, the one that raised me and the one that I married into. They have watched me crumble and have picked up the pieces many times in the past. They worry for me to no end because of the instability I struggle with in my mind. Calling them would mean more worry, more cause for concern and I shy away from the phone still, because I don’t want to be the source of stress and sleepless nights; because I’m in an episode and they want to do everything they can to make it better.

Then we come to my husband, who should be an easy choice. We have been together for eleven years now. He has seen me through the worst parts of my healing journey and has been stalwart in his love. I watch him hold down the fort, taking care of the children’s needs and the household chores and try to attend to me because he knows I am not doing well. What he is waiting for is a signal and direction from me as to what I need. The words that try to escape my mouth are swallowed whole for guilt and shame. I’m embarrassed that I cannot be the wife he deserves. I feel guilt for taking place as his wife when he could’ve had anyone in the world that does not have this complication with a mental illness; he would have a better life. 

 I struggle with the guilt and shame for being an invalid in my episodes, I struggle with the notion of weighing everyone around me down with my troubles, I struggle with finding the right words to say although it has been practiced and practiced over the many episodes I have been in the years past. Reaching out seems a simple enough concept, though it proves to be gut wrenching and humiliating every time I feel the need to. These days I force myself to say, “I’m not okay, I need you,” while on the phone with someone close, or while laying in bed with my husband, or in a text to my best friend. They have been through the drills and are privy to speak to me with compassion and reassurances that it is okay. “You would do the same for me,” my best friend said to me on the phone earlier today. I believed her and I felt the unburdening ease it’s slamming in my brain. “I’m here for you, it is not true that you are always this way,” my husband said in bed last night. He reminded me of my value in our home and his reassurances made me feel worthy of his empathy. “I’m here for whatever you need, I’m listening,” my mother in-law said this morning as she reminded me of her being able to handle the worry and concern and that I did not have to shoulder that responsibility on top of the pain I was already bearing.

Reaching out is still something I struggle with though I have been in therapy for more than a decade and I am highly aware of my condition. It is still something that weighs heavy with the visit of every episode I endure. I have made progress in the means of which I approach it and am able to find it in me to reach out even in hesitation. It has been vital in my healing and in my road to self discovery that I do not have to face this demon alone. The path tho healing is not smooth, it is arduous with so many moving parts, reaching out is only but one. The compassion, empathy and patience of all those I have reached out to have paved a way to me finding my way each time. I am in gratitude to them for instilling in me the courage in my utterance despite my fears. I am in awe of the courage I have built over the years to allow myself to be vulnerable; seeking help when I need it, keeping me on my path to healing and peace.