my true friend Steve

Surely some of you have read what I posted before about the amazing people in my mental health support group.  Everything we share together in our group is confidential which gives all of us a safe place to be. It is interesting to me how our illnesses cycle - some weeks, some of us are doing so well and then there are other weeks, where we have individual or collective pain. When the meeting ends, there is relief and comfort knowing that none of us walk this journey alone.


I find in listening to my peers that a lot of issues causing pain have to do with fear or the dreaded stigma that side-saddles any mental illness diagnosis. Most of us are simply petrified to sink down to the dark places where we've been before. The place where hope is gone, medicine ceases to work and death feels like a vacation of comfort from unending pain. This is a place where shame overwhelms the beauty of what we were all created to be. God doesn't make junk. We are all simply divine. I believe that. And I believe my mental illness has been one of the greatest gifts I have been given because I am so much better a person for it. Truly. 


You'd think that one would only feel shame when they do something deliberately painful to harm or hurt others. Or maybe one feels shame when they hurt someone deeply - this would seem appropriate don't you think? But this is not so. Because when you have a mental illness, most people lack the knowledge, compassion and understanding to treat you appropriately. They fear you. They just don't treat you like what you have is simply a physical disorder of the brain. Whether intentionally, by those who say they love us, or unintentionally, because of a lack of education, people proliferate shame on those who already feel ashamed simply by their diagnosis.


As adults suffering from mental illness, in not sharing with each other we close doors to healing. To solid advice. To mutual support and empowerment. To the love we deserve from each other simply because we are all part of the same human condition. It was so painful for me to suffer in silence that I have chosen to be very public about my illness and its related issues. And I think it has helped me tremendously because not only am I able to help others, but I feel safer and stronger being truthful about my limitations.


The reason I write this is to honor the courage of my friend Steve, who as he proclaims, had his "coming out" today. I met Steve at the end of March - he must have seen a poster about our upcoming Peer to Peer Class at his office posted by a former Board Member. I had never met Stephen but I do remember his telephone call - he sounded like a no nonsense, clear speaking man -  interested in learning more about mental illness in general. I, the ever emotive and enthusiastic facilitator, tried my best to sell him on the course that we were going to offer to benefit people newly diagnosed with mental illness.

Well he actually came to the class. And he was in quite a rage filled place. As it turns out, he was incorrectly diagnosed. However, in the second or third week, he received an accurate diagnosis, the appropriate care for his illness and the medication he needed to manage his illness. It has been pretty much straight up from there. He was supported by our group in his need to have more sleep. He fought for and sought out the help he needed to get the medication and support he needed from the appropriate psychiatrist, actually "firing" the one who would not listen to him. Fabulous! Steadfast and stoic (his words). He attended all classes except for one where he was going to support his daughter's event. True to the lovely heart of an adoring dad.


I just took the time to reread every single email he has sent me since we first became acquainted. They are interesting to me because they show his determination to fight for his wellness. To stop the merry-go-round of self medicating to level off the noise in his mind. They also show his emotional progression from rage to self-deprecation, to analyzing his situation, to acceptance of his illness and situation, to rational examination of his situation with his illness, to finally accessing the impact on his family. By and large, I would say he is completely clear in his thinking. He still carries plenty of shame. Still. Not unusual. It's been 15 years for me and I still hold on to it tight. It is my hope his shame will dissipate as time passes and he learns to love himself again; seeing his true value as a beautiful person with an illness he didn't ask for. However, he is examining his life goals, desires to clean up areas of his life that feel askew, wishes to impart a sense of his deep love and paternal security in his daughters that he feels he deprived them of while abusing alcohol and is enjoying a renewed sense of self; this includes empowerment, confidence, discovery (seeing his world around him in a new light) and self esteem. In all of this, I get to celebrate his growth. His positive encouragement is like a hand reaching down to me and pulling me back up to my feet, modeling to me to reach my own true potential. It makes my heart sing. He is exactly the perfect face of recovery from mental illness. Recovery should be all of our goals when we become diagnosed. Too bad no one tells us this. 


Today, I was witness to this beautiful man, who calls himself perfectly broken and who claims to be shy, stand up and proclaim with clear understanding his personal struggles with alcohol, with his fumbled misdiagnoses and his final diagnosis of being Bipolar 2. When I hear the word Bipolar, despite being the Executive Director of NAMI - WRV, it scares me. Because, as a mental illness, it is one of the most challenging ones to manage. When you have Bipolar illness, it is critical to be surrounded by love, compassion and plenty of rest; it is the only way to maintain stability and prevent the cycling that often comes from this illness. This is an exceptionally bright man who had the courage to admit that in an attempt to slow his mind, would self medicate to make life more bearable for himself and perceivably those around him. He laid himself out, dropped the stoicism for a time and gutted himself to a group of strangers to show them there is life with unlimited possibilities after such a cataclysmic diagnosis. Today he was my hero.


And I smiled with so much pride in this man whose journey I have followed, who I would trust my very life with and thought, we aren't much different from each other. Our labels might be different, but we all deserve respect, honor, tolerance, understanding and most importantly forgiveness and above all love. Everyone with a mental illness deserves this as Steve clearly pointed out today.


Thank you Steve for being a real man. Thank you for showing me all things are possible. Thank you for your courage and for offering it to all of us. 


What none of you know is that currently, I am in a very bad place with my own mental illness, fighting the good fight for my wellness back. The gift of your example Steve, shows me I will be well once again. And no amount of money in the world could have given me that sense of strength and empowerment like you did today. You made me believe that all things are possible and I simply wish to offer you my deepest gratitude. And from the group, our deepest gratitude - for being such a fine leader and for setting such an exemplary example. 


I promise you, cross my heart, to be there for you when you need me.