I find myself wondering why my condition is so difficult for people to talk about. I am someone who wears my emotions on my sleeve, and when I feel a need to talk about what I'm thinking or what I've gone through in the past regarding my bipolar diagnosis, it's sad to me that I usually feel completely alone. My husband is of course always here and will listen whenever I need a shoulder to cry on. And I do feel as though my support system is strong. But sometimes I wish that more of my girlfriends would show an interest in what I have been living with these past six years. It almost feels like a dirty little secret. Except it's not dirty, and it's not even much of a secret anymore. I guess that people are just uncomfortable discussing mental illness. And that makes me sad. What got me started thinking about it was my drive home this weekend. My high school girlfriends and I had planned a girls' weekend to catch up and unwind without the stress of having to chase around toddlers, change diapers, and do naps, baths and bedtimes. (Our husbands graciously all agreed to our request for some R&R and amazingly we were able to find a weekend that worked for everyone.) Except the weather decided not to cooperate and instead of the beach for four days of sun, sand and cocktails, we were forced to choose a different location. One of the girls had just sold her house, and she was in the process of moving out so we gathered some air mattresses and crashed there for three days while Hurricane Irene wrecked havoc all up and down the East Coast. Luckily for us it was not much more than a bad thunderstorm with heavy winds by the time it got to our area.
I guess a part of me was hoping that at some point over the weekend I'd get a chance to talk with everyone about my hospitalizations, my recoveries, and my hope that I can somehow change the public's perception of bipolar disorder and postpartum psychosis by telling my story and the lessons I've learned. But our conversations seemed to revolve more around our kids, work, and family life in general. Don't get me wrong, I had so much fun getting to catch up and spend time with some of my friends who I have known for the longest time. The memories we made this weekend were priceless. I should probably get back to seeing my therapist regularly again instead of trying to turn one of my friends into my own personal Carl Jung. It's on my to-do list for tomorrow morning.