Shame and Misfortune

Posted by fxckfeelings on August 22, 2013

Mental illness has many traits that physical illnesses don’t, and sadly, one of those is shame; that’s why, when dealing with mental illness, in yourself or others, it’s easy to pay more attention to stigma than chronic dysfunction. Stigma is the shame you feel about losing control, spending time in a weird mental state, and not being able to trust your judgment, while chronic dysfunction is the inability to do what you really need to in order to pursue what you felt was important before getting sick. In either case, what matters most is not whether you’re embarrassed or dysfunctional, but how well you respect yourself for dealing with whatever bad feelings, behaviors, or disabilities remain with you after you’ve made your best effort to recover. Mental illness is not easy to treat, but the shame that comes with it is easier to avoid than you think.
–Dr. Lastname

My husband isn’t happy with me, and I can’t say I blame him. I’m bipolar, and before we married, there were times when my mood swings made me a manic, exciting, sexy girl. Now it’s 10 years later, and I take medication so I never get manic. I do my job, hold up my end of the conversation, and act like a responsible person, but the chemistry between us isn’t as fun or exciting as it was in the old days, and I know it’s hard on him. I feel our marriage hasn’t recovered and it’s a burden for both of us. I wonder if it’s a mistake to stay married.

If your idea of your marriage contract requires you to stay exciting and interesting, then it’s like a TV show that depends on its ratings, and eventually, no matter how many cute kids you add, murder trials you withstand, or sharks you jump in water skis, ratings will inevitably decline.

If that’s how you see your marriage contract, I wonder if your husband is also obliged to stay attractive, interesting, and exciting, lest you find a better replacement to play his role.

What I suspect, however, is that what you both offer and expect in your partnership is more important than excitement, and includes being reliable, caring, and doing your share. Most marriages don’t survive if those qualities go missing, and most people come to value those qualities more and more as they age, in themselves and one another.

Ask yourself then why you’re apologetic about no longer having your old manic zing and whether you or your husband would trade your new, stable, sometimes boring self for that wild and crazy girl, or whether this rough period in your marriage is what any sane couple would go through from time to time.

Assuming for the moment that your choices reflect your own values and are not reactive to what your parents, shrink, or husband want you to do, then you shouldn’t have to apologize for the person you are now. You didn’t promise anyone you’d always be exciting and your husband had many opportunities, during his years of living with your mood-stabilized self, to opt out if that’s what he wanted. You have a right then, no matter how much you or he may miss the old fun, to be proud of who are now and what you have to offer.

To look at yourself as a failed manic is to disrespect yourself and your marriage; you made tough choices and tolerated the lost highs for the sake of survival and a more deeply grounded source of self-esteem, so respect your husband for making the same compromise. To do otherwise is to cast doubt on good decisions and a stable relationship that do not deserve it.

Many people with mental illness come to doubt themselves because they don’t trust themselves to know whether what their emotions are telling them are right or wrong. Recovery means that you’ve examined your choices and believe you’ve made the best compromises you could.

It also means attacking doubt and stigma and giving and taking credit where it’s due. Like many old marrieds, you may not find your relationship exciting, but you have enough other reasons to be proud of what you and he have created to make it to syndication.

STATEMENT:
“I miss the sparkle and creativity of my manic days, but they came with behavior I couldn’t respect or tolerate, and I made good choices that allowed my marriage to last. When I think of what those choices cost me, I respect myself for making them and my husband for agreeing that they were worthwhile.”

My girlfriend is a lovely person, but this is the second time I’ve seen her get psychiatric symptoms and wind up in the hospital. She’s recovering now and taking her medication so I want to support and encourage her, but I’m worried about what future episodes of illness will do if we get married or have kids. Before her last episode, I know she was taking her medication, which tells me she’s a responsible person but also makes me think medication won’t prevent it from happening again, just reduce the probability. I love her, but I’m not ready to take on that baggage, and now I don’t know how to end things without making her sick again or just being an insensitive jerk who kicks a good person when she’s down.

Depending on how you define it, marriage is not just a statement of intense, mutual love and the desire to get someone to buy you a waffle maker. Assuming the purpose of marriage is a stable partnership—meaning, not to put you and kids through a divorce—it’s to make a commitment, given what you know about the other person’s personality, values, family, and health, to take on life’s major challenges together and stick together unless doing so would violate the values that you agreed to in the first place.

Those values include putting kids first (if you’re starting a family) and not destroying one another’s lives, and sadly, certain severe, incurable illness can do just that. Ask yourself whether you would expect someone to stick with you if your personality was irreversibly changed by dementia, stroke, or mental illness.

There is a certain point where you would want to set your partner free and expect her to do the same for you. Most people don’t have to confront that issue until they’re older, if at all, but unfortunately, that’s not your luck. Don’t delegitimize your right to make a decision then, because you’re right to assume, objectively, that your girlfriend will be at high risk of relapse until treatment improves.

There’s a chance that her condition, during recoveries, will not be 100% and may decline over time. Illness may well impair her ability to parent, make a living or even have the same personality she has now. Add up the good and the risks and give yourself the freedom to choose.

Respect your choice once you’ve made it. Let her know you love her and, under other circumstances, would want to spend your life together. There’s too much that you wanted to do together, however, that mental illness would interfere with and you’re not prepared to take on those risks. You’re sorry, not for making a bad choice, but for having to give up your dreams in the face of mental illness.

Yes, she may be hurt and destabilized by the loss of your relationship, but the pain is not avoidable and would be worse later. She’ll certainly find love again, hopefully from someone whose goals for a marriage match what her illness allows her to offer.

STATEMENT:
“I feel terrible inflicting yet more pain on my girlfriend, whose illness has already put her through hell, but I know where I stand and it’s better to break up now than later. I respect her and what’s good between us, and that won’t change.”