So, I talked to my mother today on the phone. For 47 minutes. Most of which, was her lecturing me on what to do to feel better, or do better. I know she does this because she cares about me. But it's getting to the point where I am beginning to dread talking to her on the phone. Because the conversation always turns to this. Every time. For the past 4-5 years now.
See, now, I have been bipolar for about 5 years. I was officially diagnosed around 4 years ago. So, this condition is nothing new. I've come to grips with it. I've accepted it, and I try really hard to deal with it to the best of my ability. But my mother, that's a different story. She is still in complete denial that anything is really wrong with me. She refuses to accept the fact that I have a mental illness. Don't get me wrong, I am sure it is very difficult to accept that your child has something like that wrong with them. But this is getting a little ridiculous.
Today she went on a rampage about how my depression is probably because of the antidepressants I am on. Or maybe I need to think more positive, focus on positive things. Cut down on the carbs. Eat less meat. No more chocolate, because that can cause depression. I should exercise more. Maybe its just my thyroid causing depression. What about natural remedies? Etc. And somehow all these things will answer all my problems. It's so simple to fix, according to her. (I don't even know where she gets some of her information really)
She even tries to downplay the whole situation. She told me today that "we all have ups and downs. we all get depressed at one time or another". She refuses to listen to me and what I say. I try my best to explain exactly what my mood swings are like... that it's not as simple as being happy one minute and sad or down the next. I try to explain to her that the way I feel is not normal, even for me. And that that is how I know there is something more wrong to me than just feeling blue. I try to explain that when I am manic or very depressed, all sense of reason seems to go right out the window. I do and say stupid things I wouldn't normally do. Almost as if it wasn't me at all. I mean, even after the fact, it all just seems like a really bad nightmare, because it IS so contrary to the "real" me. I don't know how else to describe it.
What makes it more difficult for me to get her to understand all this, though, is that she doesn't know all the details of my extreme manic state and the extremes of my depressive states. If she knew the terrible things I've done while manic, the way I've really messed up my life, the way I act or react to things... Or if she knew just how depressed and suicidal I get, and how often, just maybe she would see that I am bipolar. But then again, maybe not, because she refuses to see it even now. I am sure she would make up some sort of excuse for my extreme behavior if she could.
The whole thing just stresses me out so much. There are a couple of others who know my situation, and they seem to understand (to the best of their ability) what's going on with me. And it helps so much to know there are a few people I can really rely on who will always be there for me, through the good times as well as the bad (and very bad) times. Even though these few people don't really know what it's like to be like this, I cherish these people for taking the time to try and help me, comfort me, and encourage me. Because it really is more difficult to deal with than the average person would think.
But especially, as long as my love tries his best to understand and be sympathetic towards my problems, and tries to really understand the complexity that is bipolar disorder, I'll be okay. I know I am in good hands and that he loves and cares about me.