The road less traveled

“Learn to adjust yourself to the conditions you have to endure, but make a point of trying to alter or correct conditions so that they are most favorable to you.”
William Frederick Book

Yesterday I wrote about decisions I had to make to take care of myself. Living with mental illness is a journey of constant course correcting, about being vigilant about what works, what doesn’t, and not being afraid or ashamed to say, “This isn’t working, I’ve made a mistake.” and recalibrating the steps you must take to live your best life. This is not always easy to do but it is necessary, and further, it is a powerful act of courage, self-love, compassion, and kindness toward ourselves, and that is where all things must begin. I cannot do a kind and loving deed for another if I don’t do one for myself first.

This is a constant source of shame for people living with mental illness. To have the challenges of a brain that doesn’t work in “the normal way” to begin with puts us at a disadvantage because if I had been born physically disabled people could see my disability and show me compassion and understanding in a way that they don’t or won’t or can’t if it is our brain that is broken. And mine is pieced together, most of the time, in such a way that I am able to function well and do good work in the world, in my limited capacity. When people can see you functioning at a certain level they expect you to do so across the board and ongoing and can be perplexed, disgruntled, or even cruel if you don’t or can’t live up to their expectations. That, without question, has been the hardest thing to cope with in my life.

When I was young my mother constantly forced me into social situations that she wanted me to be a part of because that was who she was and what she wanted for me. She made me go to football games and dances until it got to the point where I would become hysterical or throw up or completely have a collapse of some sort. Then she didn’t make me go but I was punished, ostracized, criticized, and it was made known that I wasn’t “normal” or acceptable, and certainly not acceptable to her, in fact a downright disappointment. She never ceased telling me about all the girls in my class in school who dressed pretty, had pretty hair, went places and did things I could not. I was a deep disappointment and until the day she died I always knew that that was true.

I once wrote a story called “Legless With Too Many Pairs Of Shoes.” It was about a young woman who was in a wheel chair and had no legs but her mother kept bringing her pairs of shoes thinking that if she just brought the right pair the girl would get up and walk, unable to see that she simply had no legs. That was my life. Given that I kept striving to do or be something that was acceptable to her and to other people around me. I pushed so hard I made myself sick. I pushed harder until depression and anxiety became a way of life. I pushed myself until the pain was so great I left the world and created a world of my own making. I pushed until I just couldn’t (pardon me) fucking do it any more. And then I stopped, and here I am.

And still it is hard to live in the world in a way that makes you feel less than others around you. To not be able to hold down a job in the world that would support me so that I wouldn’t be a burden or a bother to anyone, ever, is such a shameful thing to me I don’t think I will ever get over it. And so I try very hard, I work very, very hard, and I begin to have success with something, and then I think, “This! This is it! I can do this, and create a business doing it, and I will make the money that I need to support myself, and I will not ever have to worry again, and I will be alright, and I won’t end up at the end of my life afraid and unable to take care of myself, and, and, and…” and then I push so hard because I want so much, more than anything, to believe that this is possible. I can actually do many things. To date I have not been able to do that. The world does not approve of someone who is not able to do that.

And so here I am, once again having started into something that I thought would be the answer, and become more and more anxious and less and less well until I hit the wall, the wall of knowing that I had come to a place that was unmanageable, even dangerous for me. And I had to say no, I’m sorry, no, I cannot do this. I can do this, and this, and this, but I can’t do those other things.

The big thing, however, for me, is that finally I didn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. And this might not seem like much to most people (Although one of the dear women who commented after yesterday’s post said, “You have done a great thing… some people would have dropped everything.”) but I am here to tell you that it is an enormous thing for me to, in the face of mounting pressure (internal) and increasing anxiety and depression not to have just stopped doing every single in my life that I was doing. That I could separate out what was working, what was not, and continue on doing what I could do, continue to blog and teach and make art and work on Anna’s book, but not a couple of other books I was working on and pushing to get eCourses up and other things that felt insupportable, well, I am continuing to do the work that I can do.

I realized two things last night. One is that Anna’s story is about a woman who does live with mental illness and limitations but has created a beautiful life for herself in spite of it all. I think that is what Anna’s story is about. And maybe other people, I am hoping, who don’t live with mental illness but do live with other kinds of limitations can relate too. Even as I write this I am thinking about one very dear friend who has suggested in the past that my writing would be more relatable if I didn’t write so much about mental illness, but, “sorry, not sorry,” as the saying goes, this is not only what I live with but what millions of other people live with too and there is so much shame about mental illness I think that those of us who do live with it have the responsibility, if we are using a public forum, via writing or art or anything else, to speak for our sisters and brothers who are also suffering and struggling. I will not apologize for that. Other people can do other kinds of work. This is mine.

The second thing is that I have struggled with writing the material for tomorrow night’s Sunday Night Writing Group all week. This is usually fairly effortless for me, I have done it for decades and I love doing it, but this week I was having such a hard time I didn’t know how I could manage it at all, and then I did, twice, and finally last night I chucked both of my first efforts and completely wrote from the heart an outline that was deeply personal and very different from the kind of thing I usually offer. But the others, while actually good material and exercises I think might have been helpful and well received and which I might use at a later date, felt wooden and not right to me, and, given my current state of mind felt inauthentic in a way. I am, first and foremost, as authentic as I can be in my efforts. As honest as I can be, as transparent, in an effort to help others who are fighting the good fight too, in whatever form that takes. And in chucking the first two outlines and writing the third something opened up in my heart again, like a flower blooming I was finding my way home. I had course corrected, I had recalibrated, I had once again taken the road less traveled by, and it indeed made all the difference.

What I want to say to you, in closing, if you are reading this, if you are suffering and struggling too, is that if you are pressing on doing things in your life that are hurting you, please stop. Please don’t push yourself to live up to other’s expectations, find a way to peace and ease in your life, take a look at everything in your life that is working, that makes you happy, that brings you joy, or that you can do without harm to yourself, and then let go of everything else. Let go, let go, let go. You are not helping anyone by forcing yourself to do the things you cannot do and you may be doing great harm to yourself. It’s time to let go. I have, and I am better for it today.

And I am sending you all so much love, and tenderness, I am holding you close and whispering in your ear, “You are alright, despite it all, you will be alright and so will I. Now let’s do this thing. Let’s carry on…” And I leave you with these words which I hold dear to my heart. They have long been a touchstone for me, my North Star, the light in the sky that gives me hope. They are lighting my path today…

“…I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost