“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”
A big part of my healing the past few years has been the ability to write and speak freely, despite the fear that has consumed me for years. I’ve preached about vulnerability as if it has saved me, which it has in a sense but how can I heal from this? To be vulnerable, you need comfort in your own ability to explain the situation you’re facing with confidence. Without confidence, it’s hard to touch on subjects you’re still uneasy about. I’m extremely unsure and uneasy about my future at the moment, a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ve never doubted my ability to get through anything, so now that I question myself on the daily, it leaves me extremely anxious.
While mental health has seen a rise in notoriety with more and more famous and not so famous people admitting to their unseen struggles, myself included, there still are so many unanswered questions that are still unknown. Physical ailments are a lot easier to recognize when you’re able to see a person in pain so when you see a person who on the outside seems like they have it all together and smile as if they are okay, perception is, they are okay. I smile a lot but I’m not okay. I smile to make other people feel comfortable, I joke to make other people laugh and I genuinely enjoy the feeling of bringing happiness to other people, despite my brain telling me constantly that I am not doing enough. I’ve had people tell me that I have inspired them on different occasions because of how vulnerable I've been with my own mental health struggles but how do I find inspiration for myself when it’s my child that is now struggling and experiencing symptoms beyond my reach of help.
Historically, the only explanation for mental health problems is “genetics” and there will never be a part of me that doesn’t blame my own bloodline for the struggles my son is facing right now. I’ve always struggled with my own abilities as a mother and the space that I have to accept that as long as I am trying my hardest, I am doing my best. What happens when your best isn’t good enough? Despite the work you’re putting in to make the best decisions possible, it still misses the mark. As someone who thrives on making people happy, my sons reaction to push me farther away is extremely difficult. I’m walking on a thin ledge of the unknown, not wanting to make things worse and still wanting to help more. Having to make decisions that I hate, to support my sons well being. I want to feel confident in my capacity to make the right move but when you can’t pinpoint an issue, its hard to have faith without conviction.
Unfortunately, I was raised in an environment where mental health was more of a personal struggle rather than an actual ailment. The generations before me barely went to the doctor for anything serious, let alone maintenance for issues that can’t even be seen. It’s like an unspoken fact that Mexicans DO NOT like the doctor. Whether going to a checkup or facing surgery, the fear and anguish is all the same. Again, the “unknown.” Before you go to a doctor you’re fine, then suddenly, in a single moment, your life can change forever. A year ago after one of the worst manic episodes I’ve ever experienced, right after my dad went home, my long time therapist brought up that she’d been toying with the idea that I may be Bipolar II. The information felt like a train hitting me at full speed and while I was still coming down from my episode. I hit a tailspin into information and TikToks with #bipolarII, ruminating on how this title just ultimately ruined my life. Automatically, I was self diagnosed by Google and had a list of every reason why I had this all along yet immediately ran in the opposite direction. I worked really hard to manage my PTSD, which I had a chance to blame on traumatic events in my life. This however, was genetics.
This was the perfect time to recognize that a lot of my mother’s side of the family dealt with different issues. My grandfather was an alcoholic who was literally the sweetest soul on earth. It sounds like such an oxymoron but I can relate to the humanity of my late grandfather. Despite his struggles, he thrived in public forums. Always happy and funny, his alcoholism was never in the forefront of my memories because he strived to make others happy, even if he was miserable inside. All 3 of his sons ended up having their own substance abuse problems, eventually to all become sober after their addictions ravaged through their early lives in such a horrible way. All of my uncles are sober over 30 years, my generation, however, is a tad different.
The first generation to actually dig deep. The 27 grand kids that came from 9 very opinionated and overwhelmingly emotional beings, that came from 2 very complex and nonconforming socialites. All very different in our own ways, we were the first to seek help for the extreme depression, addictive personalities and mania that have plagued us since we were kids. A number of us after seeking professional help have been diagnosed with a slue of different titles that would scare anyone. Hearing a diagnosis that you really can’t pinpoint to any single thing or person because nobody did the work prior, is so incredibly brave. While everything is a work in progress and nothing changes immediately, our addictive personalities can be a downfall. Alcohol just does not work well for us. Unfortunately, not all of us have learned from our ancestors.
By all means, I don’t want to blame my current situation on my genetics but I do want to acknowledge the consistencies that I’ve seen over the years with those that share my bloodline. Not to mention, I can’t definitively say that the gene that my son has did not come from his father. Again, because our culture didn’t go to seek help, I am now left with so many unanswered questions in regards to my son.
Right now, my future is unknown. The thought of having to sacrifice the career I’ve worked so hard for to take care of my son really is a scary thought but if that’s what it takes to meet the needs of my kid, I’m willing to give it all up. If it means that I have to spend every dollar I have to find the right treatment to get my son stable, that’s what I’ll have to do. If I have to take every verbal beating, every bout of insomnia, or every manic tantrum, that is what I’m going to do.
My heart right now hurts harder than I’ve ever experienced. I’ve had to work really hard to keep an optimistic mindset. Actively being overly positive knowing that at any moment, my depression can take over. Right now, I am not optimistic or positive. I am hurting, really really bad. Not only am I watching my child’s mind change, I’m also watching my father’s health deteriorate. This time has pulled me back into a very strange and uneasy place, a place that I thought I had control of. After my therapist gave me that title a year ago, I ran so far away to prove that I was capable of not letting my mania turn me towards the chaos I chased for so long. During the time without her I tried new things, started praying the rosary daily, significantly decreased my alcohol intake, saved thousands with discernment and grew my business to a valuable additional source of income. All of that did not prepare me for the heartbreak I feel right now. I haven’t thought about suicide in a long time yet all of a sudden, here it is right in my face telling me that life would be better if I wasn’t here. I hate watching the people I love most suffer and there’s nothing I can do right now to make it all better. I’m the one my family relies on for help. I’m the one my friends lean on for support. I’m the person people look up to for positive vibes. I’m the mentor and leader that helps my community. Yet here I am, feeling completely alone.
Triggered. Time to call my girl.
That is the power of therapy. Had I not put in the work these last 8 years, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to write this. Maybe I would have ran away like I always have, flying to a faraway destination and drowning myself in debt and alcohol. Maybe I would’ve jumped back into hard drugs, something that I only did when I was extremely depressed. Maybe I would’ve spent all my savings on a shopping spree at Niemann Marcus solely because I could, not because I wanted to. Maybe I would have followed my brain to swallow a bottle of pills, despite knowing that my mind is a liar. But I didn’t, I called my therapist.
Sometimes we over analyze the things we have to work on, so much so that we are forgetting the things we’ve already conquered. Yes, life is kind of miserable for me right now BUT I am NOT who I was when I started my journey. Whether anyone else sees it, I KNOW IT. I am a woman who is putting her family and community first, regardless of the hardships I am facing. I am no longer accepting any opinion that says otherwise, whether you see my growth or not, I have been a pillar in my family that has taken control of every trial and tribulation that has came my way.
And I will continue that. One day at a time.
God loves you and so do I.
-XO