Well, something absolutely incredible happened.
I decided to take myself to a Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA) group last night. I’m very happy I did. Everyone was so welcoming and they LISTENED. The group leader used to be in the Church of Scientology, which I found to be quite amazing. I felt like I truly belonged in that group.
2 hours later, I left group therapy and returned home. My grandmother and aunt were home as usual. I happily sat at the dining room table (mostly because the air conditioning was blowing right now me) and I picked up my DID book.
After about an hour or so after I got home, my aunt began to iron some of her clothes next to the table. We were on the topic of Scientology for some reason. I told her about the guy I had met in group therapy earlier that afternoon. She perked up and asked me, “Why are you in group therapy?”
Just a reminder- I have not talked to my aunt in YEARS. Sure, we exchange polite hellos and awkward smiles. We have NEVER had an in depth conversation; never mind that she’s my godmother.
Just hours before this moment, I had been sitting in a room with fellow bipolarneers, spilling out all of my hurt because I felt like a prisoner at home. I had to keep my mental health under wraps because no one has ever cared to listen to me in the family. No one has ever validated my depression. They had just summed it up to angst and poor behaviour. At least, in my own opinion.
I’ve never seen my aunt perk up this excitedly. I told her I was in group therapy to manage my depression and bipolar disorder. She stopped ironing, actually LOOKED at me and said, “Yeah, I have major depressive disorder.”
I knew my aunt was depressed and I knew she was on medication. I suppose that A) it was never talked about and B) WE especially didn’t talk about it ever because we didn’t talk in general.
I told her about my outpatient treatment I received not too long ago. She asked me if I have ever considered medication. I told her I’m on Lithium. She hurried off to the bedroom and brought back a pill bottle with her.
Celexa. She’s also taking tranquilizers.
We talked a little bit more about our depression, and my grandma also listened…which was a big deal for me. There was no judgement. No one made it this huge deal. My grandma said, “Well, for me, prayer is my therapy…and my father always told me that sometimes people talk to themselves because there isn’t anyone more intelligent around them. So I talk to myself all the time.” We all shared in a laugh.
Then, my aunt scurried to the kitchen. She called me to come open her wine bottle. I poured her a usual glass, small. She laughed and said, “Well I’m going to need more than that!”
She was actually talking to me. It was as if the veil of bullshit lifted off and we both understood and empathized with one another. Sure, there’s a lot more to absolve and work out. But this was a HUGE breakthrough.
Even my grandma had a glass of wine, which is completely out of her character. It was surreal. But I loved it. What a wonderful relief it was.
I had finished reading my DID sourcebook. Today, I’m planning on bringing some ideas to the system. There were some awesome, workable tips I read about, and I’m looking forward to implenting them.
On a sidenote, I barely slept at all last night. I’m feeling alright. I think it was just a bit of insomnia.