Bipolar Life-The Journal, #13

I have recently been in pain and physically limited by some neck issues. The limitations have been things as simple as lifting a cup to my mouth to take a drink. I have fumbled getting my jewelry placed, and it takes two hands for me to get a brush through my hair. Still, I have managed to keep going, though at times I question how. Neck pain and complications are no joke.

While these ailments leave me physically limited, I have to question myself as to why I feel so spiritually limited. What has brought my spirit to this unwanted rest? Months of emotional turmoil have not helped. As I go through the day-to-day motions of my own life, I am often picking up pieces to bring consistency to the lives of my grandchildren. They need me, their mother needs me, and in that, I am available. The heaviness I feel comes from being unable to help further, do more, or fix things (even if it is not my job). As a mother, you want nothing more than to see your children happy, successful, and alive.

As a family, we are battling the demons of addiction. We simultaneously fight the fatigue in the battle through mental illness with suicidal ideation. To this arena, I am no stranger. I have encountered those demons my entire life. I am learning the difference of being the one in peril versus being the family member on the outside looking in- powerless, exhausted, speechless, and scared. Picture me tapping my fingernails against the windowpane of a room I cannot enter, tears pouring down my cheeks, and fear capturing every breath I take.

I am frustrated as well. How do you get treatment for someone who cannot afford the $25,000 price tag treatment comes with? There are limited options for those who do not have pocketbooks to match. I have to ask, which demographics suffer most by addiction, be it alcohol or drug abuse? According to Project Know, women minority groups are most likely to struggle with issues relating to alcohol abuse. Yet, those groups do not have an income that can afford such costs. In my opinion, most Americans don’t.

I wish I had all the answers as to why addiction creeps in and takes hold. I wish such substances could be undiscovered. Is that a word? I wish every person could exhibit restraint and responsibility. I wish people never thought of killing themselves. I wish that joy, hugs, love, and a smile could cure all illnesses- especially mental ones. The pain of the limitations I face in being unable to help and support my own daughter far outweigh the limitations I feel physically and spiritually at this time- though it significantly explains why I feel as I do.

I can pray. I pray for her, for her children, for myself. I can wake up each day, and say a positive and encouraging word. I can help search for resources. I cannot fix a thing. I will never be able to fix any part of this. I get it. It is not my job; it is not up to me. Never will that mean I am not present, vocal, pushing in love, and striving to be the best mom I can be within the situation. Some days that means I back off, and say nothing at all. Other days, I lend unsolicited advice. Often that advice is accepted and appreciated.

All the time I must share love, grace, compassion, and truth. That is my goal, my role, and in that, I am never limited.

<unedited, authentic>


2 Replies to “Bipolar Life-The Journal, #13”

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