They Volunteered to Give Their Help
They made the choice to support us. We don’t get to make that choice for them.
Mental illness can have a sick sort of way of convincing us that we are too much of a burden on our loved ones. It tells us that our supporters would be happier if they didn’t have to deal with the emotional turmoil that surfaces around us.
Is there any truth to it?
Even if there is, are we remotely qualified to make that decision?
I have caused pain.
I don’t have to look too hard to see ways that my mental illnesses have caused pain in those I love.
I can look back and see how I’ve given my wife both the happiest and saddest moments of her life over the last six years. I can see her beautiful, radiant smile the day we said our vows.
I can also see the face streaked with silent tears that was hers when I was begging her to help me make my suicidal thoughts stop. There was so much pain and helplessness in that face.
I can look back and see the ways I haven’t been there for my children. There were days when I didn’t have the energy to get up and play with them. On others, I clung to them and used them as support when they were too young to understand why daddy was crying.
My parents and extended family may have fared worse in my life. It’s hard to quantify and isolate a lifetime of struggle to each one of them individually. I can see a tearful look of pain on each face in my memories.
My mental illnesses give the idea a ring of truth.
It’s common to have a low sense of self-worth with mental illness. I am no exception. When I combine this with the negative ruminations, it’s so easy to think that I don’t deserve these people.
How did they come to subject themselves to this life with me? I can see how they have done nothing to deserve the pain I put them through as I struggle to live life. They should never have shared a tear for me.
It seems almost comical to see the pain I have caused half in the name of love and a half in the name of unfounded fears. I held a degree of concern for the loss of my wife that had me persecuting her and jabbing her with painful accusations.
I have watched them cry for me and because of me more times than I can count.
They are still there, though.
My supporters still suffer through the pain and stand by my side.
There are times that I can’t imagine why they would do such a thing. A part of me believes that I would leave me if I could escape the things that haunt my mind.
Why shouldn’t I do the leaving?
I have honestly contemplated, both before and after marriage and kids, just disappearing. I don’t mean on a mania filled drive to go hither and damn the consequences. No, I have contemplated leaving because it seemed best for others.
I didn’t feel that it was right that they should have to cry for me. My supporters should be saving those tears for everyday life events, not the ramblings of my mind that are so full of illogical assumptions and beliefs.
They shouldn’t be kept up wondering if they would ever see me again. They shouldn’t have to fear things they might find. They shouldn’t have to visit me at the hospital when everything became too much to handle outside of the walls.
It wasn’t my choice to make.
We that require support have no control over those who choose to support us. We can’t decide when our supporters stay or when they go. We can’t pick what they will listen to or what they will call us out on. We have no control over what pain they experience on our behalf.
It is entirely their choice, which they make daily, to be in our lives. We can’t force them to be here, and it’s incredibly unfair to try to force them out of it. They’re here for a reason.
I would say the most resounding reason is that of love and a wish that we find paths of healing for our sake.
They chose to stand beside you.
My support system has seen me at so many “worst ever” moments throughout the years. A sobering thought is that they haven’t seen me at even more of the ones that happened.
They could have left. Some might even say my supporters should have dropped the cards and walked away. They didn’t though. They chose the long road and the promise of hope.
Supporters may not ever state the full intent of their presence.
Our network may never speak at all in their support, but the fact that they are there says something. They are not just there for the hard times and to be our supporters. They are there for the smiles shared in small moments and those yet to come.
As much as they aren’t leaving simply because you have a mental illness, that is also not the only reason they are there. Those people are making choices based on what they see inside of you.
That’s something we can’t always see or understand. Even when you’ve lost all hope, they are beside you to show that maybe that loss of faith is unfounded because they certainly have hope for you.
I can’t rob my supporters of that choice.
They wouldn’t be happier without me because my network of supporters wouldn’t even be here if that was a reality for them.
The choice to support me as they have wasn’t an idle one. It was intentional, and it was and continues to be a choice.
It doesn’t matter what their responsibilities to us appear to be; the decision to support a mental health struggle is a definite and clear choice.
To deprive them of that choice with “they’d be happier without me” is more unfair and cold than the way we have been deprived of an option on our mental illness in general. We can’t take that choice from them. It would be unfair or even betrayal.
I use this dedication now.
I don’t exploit my support system, but I utilize this love and compassion inside my head. I look at what they’ve done for me, the ways they’ve shaped who I am, and the steadfast nature of their support and I hold it as the ideal of love.
It is my most exceptional coping mechanism. It is not something of me but something of those who have chosen to array themselves around me. I don’t care that it is dependent on others; those others are dependent on me as well.
I now ask “How can they be happier WITH me?”
For many of us, that’s a hard question to answer. I am still managing the significant stressors that cause my support system pain. The wounds still fester and spread infection throughout my interactions with them.
There’s a concept that’s both important and easy to miss that is key here:
Our mental illness affects nearly every facet of our lives, but it is not everything we are. We may be robbed of almost everything, but there are parts of us that survive.
Those are the parts I call on for this. The most difficult times are inside of depression. I can’t give much because I can’t do much. I do actions when I can, but when I can’t, I focus on words. Those are always mine.
I speak the language of love to them. I ensure that they know that I appreciate their assistance, that I care for their wellbeing, and reciprocate the love they so clearly hold for me.
Sometimes, that affirmation is three words long. At others, there is a river flow of words that washes over them. I may even drown them in it, in the case of my wife.
That’s just me, though.
I can’t say what your effort could be. It may even be beyond you right now. If that is the case, it is perfectly acceptable. Everyone finds themselves in different places at different times, and those supporters aren’t expecting it.
The most important thing is you and working towards management and recovery.
There is only one important take away:
Our support systems are there because they chose to be there. We should let them make their own choices on what is acceptable and accept their support.
It does them a disservice to attempt to run from them or push them away. It’s not our place to make that choice for them.
