The Past and the Present

I’ve been reading old journal entries and emails to Jean from 2006 as I write my next book (working title: The Journey Continues). I’m noticing some things that are the same and some things that are different.

First, one thing that is the same. I didn’t like taking my psychotropic medications for my bipolar disorder. I would agonize over it or just plain refuse to take them. I would conveniently “forget” them. I would not tell my therapist or my psychiatrist until they asked. If they didn’t ask the right question, they didn’t get the whole truth. I wouldn’t volunteer any information that might make it seem like I was being non-compliant. I would struggle with this for weeks, until it became obvious to everybody that something was wrong. I usually ended up in the mental hospital.

Some of those things are still true, however, there’s one big difference. I still don’t like taking my psychotropic medications for my bipolar disorder. I constantly question whether they are working or not. I question the psychiatrist and my therapist all the time as to whether or not they think the meds are really helping and how do they know. That’s something that hasn’t changed in the last nine years. I doubted their effectiveness then and I doubt their effectiveness now. What has changed: I actually take them now, whether I want to or not. The psychiatrist is aware that I don’t want to be on any more meds than is absolutely necessary and she works toward that goal. My therapist also knows I don’t like taking my meds and asks me on a regular basis what I’m taking and whether that’s the doses and drugs recommended by the psychiatrist.

Another thing that is the same. I struggled over the relationship I had with my mom. In 2006, my mom was still alive and we regularly had contact with one another. There were many things from my childhood that were amiss because of my mom’s actions and attitudes toward me. While she was still alive, it didn’t matter that I was an adult, she still had the means to offend me or raise my ire.

However, that has changed in some ways. I still struggle at times with the way I was raised and the things my mom said and did. But I’ve learned in the intervening years that my mom was the way she was because of her childhood upbringing and because of her experiences. She did a lousy job of being a mom to me, but she did the best she could. I’ve learned that I don’t have to follow in her footsteps and treat my children the same way she treated me (as children or as the young adults they now are). I no longer hold a grudge against my mom. I’ve come to a place of forgiveness and acceptance. That is easier now that she has passed away (however, I forgave her before she died and told her so). She no longer has the opportunity or the means to insult me or my husband, my children or my decisions regarding my children. So it is easier to live with the memories and have a peace I didn’t have before.

Another thing that is the same. Trusting others has been hard for me all my life. I see now it stems from the childhood I had where I couldn’t trust my parents to meet my emotional needs. I still struggle with that. I just have a really hard time trusting those people God has put into my life as caregivers (including my husband, my therapist, my psychiatrist, my internist, etc.)

However, what is different is the way I deal with those thoughts and feelings of distrust. I remind myself that those people are not my parents who failed to meet my emotional needs or to demonstrate the appropriate emotion regulation coping mechanisms that allow for a maturity in adulthood. I now tell myself these are good, caring, loving, and accepting people in whom I can place my trust.

So there are some things that are the same, but with those come some different ways of dealing with those thoughts and feelings that could lead to the self-destructive behaviors of the past. I’ve learned some things in the last nine years. That is good to discover and gives me encouragement for change in the future.