A Support System

I was reminded again this weekend just how important having a support system can be, but also how difficult one can be to obtain. Mental illness still has a stigma in our society. In general, people don't consider it a physical illness like epilepsy, diabetes, or even alcoholism. Instead, those of us who suffer from a mood disorder are called crazy, weak, or lazy. "Why can't you just get over it, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, or get a life?" we are asked.

Although many of my past friends did not know I was sick (even I didn't know until middle age), they dumped me because of my erratic behavior. Who could blame them? But friends who avoid me now when I confide in them about being bipolar, when I take that risk, aren't really worth having as friends. It would be like me dumping them for having cancer as if I could catch it, or just didn't want to drive them to their treatments or listen to their complaints.

Fortunately, I have found a few friends who either understand my disease or suffer from it themselves and so have become part of my support system. I am also part of their's like any good friend is. But this didn't happen overnight. I met these wonderful women through other outlets and, over a period of time, learned to trust them enough to tell them about my being bipolar. I learned to start with "I suffer from depression," which isn't as alarming as "I'm bipolar." Then after a while, I moved on to the next level of intimacy.

One would think that family members would be automatic members of our support system, but I didn't find this the case. The ultra religious members of my family have told me that mental illness is not "real," that I am instead possessed by a demon. I don't believe them because demons don't get ousted with medication, as far as I know. I also don't spend much time with them, very little, actually. Why would I? Now that would be crazy, if you ask me!

Even the non-religious family members, when I told them, joked about it with one another. I overheard my step-sisters express their gratitude that they didn't share my family genes. At least they understood it was an inherited disease rather than my being a bad person. Yet to laugh at me is not supportive so I have had to look elsewhere for "family." I don't feel guilty about meeting my needs elsewhere. In this way, I am the first and foremost member of my support system.

Other members of my support system besides healthy family members and loving friends? My therapist and doctor, of course. I am so grateful that I live in a time when medicine and psychiatry have joined forces to label mental illness as a treatable disease, and as much as we vilify pharmaceutical companies, their research is providing us with better and better medications with each year.

So even though there are days that I feel alone, it is only a feeling. I only need reach out to find someone who is on my side. You, too, don't have to isolate from the world. If you're having trouble finding a support system, Google "bipolar" and you'll find a number of organizations of which a few have online support or local meetings. Talk to your doctor or therapist.

If you don't have a therapist yet and work for a corporation, chances are you have an Employee Assistance Program (EAP) that will help you find one. If you're unemployed, there are sliding scale services through your local government or charitable organizations. The point is to take steps to develop a support system. I know it's hard. I know it feels lonely. But you are your own best advocate.