I had another manic/psychotic episode.
If you’ve been worried about me, don’t be.
If you haven’t, don’t be.
This isn’t really meant to be a post about anything except gratitude.
And maybe a little soapboxing.
I have gratitude for the fact that some people experience psychosis only once in their lives.
Paradoxically, I also have gratitude for the fact that I’m not one of them.
Because I have truly never felt more resilient or more capable than I do right now.
I am learning the signs and symptoms so that next time will be even shorter.
I am managing to process my trauma without igniting too much of my PTSD.
I am accepting help, while giving help right back. Because recovering from psychosis doesn’t make you weak, it makes you stronger than you ever knew you could be.
If you’re reading this and I’m scaring you because you were hoping your psychosis was only going to happen the one time, I feel you. I’ve been there. And for many of you it will be a one time experience. So don’t worry.
But sometimes things are out of our control, and we have to just learn to learn more and do better and get better treatment next time.
Ironically, something that I first wrote in my mania came true, which is that I forgot that everyone has just one small piece of a story as it’s happening.
I trust my psych APRN with my life. Literally. I consider her a friend. And yet I didn’t fully listen to her advice, then kept some information from her, then declined to reach out before things got really bad.
She cares about my case and is exceptionally good at her job, and yet she made some mistakes too (which I won’t list here).
My therapist is like a girlfriend to me- we chat about everything. But I also tend to be a people pleaser who says what a therapist wants to hear and therefore presents as healthier than I am. She sensed something was off, but didn’t quite get in touch with the right people. We all make mistakes, and I don’t begrudge her, even though she’s being hard on herself about it now. But she will still be my therapist for life.
Matt knows me better than everyone, but I just couldn’t find the courage to say to him “I think I have special powers/am God.” So he had no way of knowing that that’s what I was thinking, and therefore no way of knowing that I was psychotic. I made mistakes, which led him to make some too. But woe be to anyone who tries to tell him he was wrong, because I will come after them with that fierce mama bear wrath. I love him more than I can explain and trust him more than he knows. We both need to remember that this is hard work. But he’s doing everything right because he is acting from a place of pure love.
So what’s my advice? Do yourself a favor: tell your story with honesty and vulnerability.
Let others help you tell your story, and trust them when they say it needs some editing.
Sometimes you might need to relinquish control of your story altogether. But the people that love you will keep writing it for you while you’re gone, and keep fighting to get the pen back in your hand.
And when they do, the words will be more moving, more genuine, more powerful than ever.
We got this.
You got this.
This is hard, be strong.
61 miles down, 39 to go