Bipolar Survivor

Hey, y’all–

I was just on bipolarcentral.com, and saw what was written as the advertisement for this blog, and the part about my sharing the “ups and downs” of living with BP caught my eye. I tend to forget about that in the day to day part of this thing. I haven’t been on here in a few days, because I have been more on the “down” side of things, just getting by myself. I like to get on here and dispense these wonderful pearls of wisdom to help y’all, but sometimes, well, like I wrote the other day, there are just those “sucks to be me” days anyway! We all have them. Believe it or not, even people who DON’T have BP get depressed from time to time! It just seems so much harder for us, maybe because we are so much more aware of it, I don’t know.

These days I am cycling in and out, and that does not make Michele a happy camper. Although the peaks and valleys are not as high and low as they were, they are still there, even with the best of medication. I had hoped that with stability would come cure. I know, I know, a fairy tale, to be sure. But we can still dream, can’t we? And in the meantime, we live each day, each hour, each moment, the best we can, and make the sweetest lemonade we can make with the lemons we have to work with! Ok, so some days the lemons are sweet, some days they are sour, and some days they are just plain rotten! But we do the best we can. It’s all we can do.

Ok, so explaining the title of today’s entry… Some of you know, but some of you are new to this blog and don’t know, so I’ll tell you. My sister’s name was Debi. She was 3 years younger than me, but I called her the twin of my heart. She had BP like me, but last summer she went off her medications, and this past April she shot herself. When she died, she almost took me with her. It felt like half my heart had been cut out of my body. I even had chest pains and problems breathing for a while. Emotionally I was devastated. I went into an episode myself. I wanted to die. I was so angry–at her, at God, at life. I especially hated people who told me that eventually things would get better–that life would go on. Life would never go on for me, I thoroughly convinced myself. My sister was not only my best friend, but she was the only person in the whole world who I knew loved me. The only person. And without her, there was no love in my life at all. There was no anything. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Just nothing. Only this huge, gaping hole, where Debi used to be. I never thought I would be able to go on without her. I never wanted to.

But the people who said eventually I would be able to go on without my sister were right. Eventually I went one whole day without falling to pieces, without crying all day and wanting to die. Then two days. Then three. Then a whole week. Then two weeks. Now it’s been four months. Suicide is no longer an option for me–I have a 15 year old son to whom I am an ONLY parent (his dad died a year ago this Sept). But for two whole months after Deb died, only my body was alive–my heart and mind were nowhere to be found here on this earth; they were with my sister, the twin of my heart.

When I met David Oliver and got involved with bipolarcentral.com, I found a reason for living again. I found a way to make Deb’s death count for something. I help so many people now–I tell her story, as much of it and as often as I can, so that other people with BP will understand how devastating this illness can be–both for the one who has it and for the loved one… so that the sufferer who is thinking about suicide as a way out will think again when they read about all the pain my sister’s death caused her husband, her sister, and her family, those left behind… so that those people with BP will think twice about going off their medication, knowing that they may become one of the statistics, the 20% who WILL (not MAY) kill themselves from BP.

So I say all that to say this. I have days now, that I call “Bad Deb Days”, that seem to come completely out of the blue, that pierce my heart like a sword, and I bleed my loss all over my living room carpet and anyone who dares to stand close enough to me… and my sobs wrack my body, until I just cannot cry any more, and the pain is bone deep, crushing my very spirit, and I feel so very lost and alone without my sister, my best friend, the twin of my heart… and I wish that I had just one more day with her, just one more day, had just one more chance with her, just one more chance, to tell her that I love her, to ask her to get help, to plead with her to hang on, to beg her to go back on her medication–ANYTHING, just anything…anything, to keep her with me for just one more moment. I would have done anything in the world not to lose her. But I couldn’t do anything. Nothing. The saddest part of all is that NO ONE COULD DO ANYTHING TO HELP HER. NO ONE COULD STOP HER FROM KILLING HERSELF. And that is the saddest part of all. That is why I cry today. That is why my pain is so sharp it threatens to pull me under. Because of the very helplessness of it all. The truth is, my baby sister, my love, my twin, my heart, my life… killed herself because she made a decision to stop taking her BP medications. And she made a decision to stop listening to the doctors and her loved ones. And she made a decision to not accept the help that was offered her. And she made a decision to buy a gun and take her own life.

My Debi, my sweet, sweet, baby sister…killed herself. And there was nothing I or anyone else could do to stop her. And today on this Bad Deb Day, I am furious! I am furious, because I hate this disorder with everything that is within me. If it was a living entity, something outside my body, I would take the gun my sister held, and I would shoot it to death, and keep shooting, and keep shooting, until someone would have to pry that gun out of my fingers, because of the absolute wrath that I feel, for the lives this disorder has stolen, the lives that this disorder has destroyed, the marriages this disorder has ruined, the relationships this disorder has beaten to a pulp until there is nothing left. I hate this disorder with everything there is within me. It killed my sister. But I will be damned if it will kill me.

Michele

Related posts:

1. SUICIDE vs. SURVIVAL
2. One Moment Can Change Your Life Forever
3. Suicide Awareness Week and My Bipolar Sister
4. Regarding Depression and Grief
5. Can You Catch Bipolar Disorder?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005 at 10:04 pm and is filed under Opening Post. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.