Why are you surprised?

A little over a month ago I learned of the death of someone I once considered one of my best friends.  We dated in high school, but even after we broke up we remained friends.  I used to talk to him often.  Then, like so many friendships, we drifted apart and spoke less and less.  I hadn't spoken to him in probably 5 years when I learned that he took his life.  We had talked about depression and I knew he, too, suffered from it.  It was actually Matt that made me realize so long ago that the way I was feeling was not normal.  He told me I was sad all the time, and he gave me his copy of "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."  I think I had a normal reaction in wishing that I had kept in touch with him.  Not because I think I could have saved him, but maybe to have a little more to hold to.  Rest in peace, Matty.  I love you and I'll see you again someday.

Today, the U.S. was rocked by the news of Robin Williams' passing.  So many people on Facebook expressed shock.  I don't think people that knew or heard he dealt with depression were necessarily surprised, but I think, mostly, they were surprised that he is dead. He had everything, right?  He was loved by so many, he was married, he was wealthy, he was hilarious. See, when we hear someone suffers from depression, we don't think death.  When we hear cancer, that's where our minds go.  If you heard someone had cancer but weren't going to do anything about it, you'd think, "Well, you're going to die!"  But if you heard someone was dealing with depression and wasn't getting help, you wouldn't think the same.

This is where the stigma of depression comes in.  No one thinks it's that serious.  No one thinks there's a time limit.  Now, I realize that comparing depression to cancer is comparing apples to oranges.  Believe me, no one knows that better than me right now.  But I think about the things I have heard in my 23 years with this disease and it makes me angry.  To some, I was trying to get attention. (In fact, there are those who think I still am)  To others, I was no longer fun to be around...so they stopped being around me.  To yet others, I was/am crazy.  In all of these reactions, I am someone to be avoided.  I'm annoying, I'm selfish, I'm boring, I'm nuts..I'm...I'm...

So give those answers to someone who is not just sad, but deeply sad.  Someone who is terrified, someone who feels alone.  Someone whose brain is telling them they are worthless, and all the people around them are proving them right. Someone whose mind is consumed with dark thoughts, self-inflicting thoughts and those thoughts provoke them just as much as their audience does.  Now - why are you surprised? 

You're surprised because you didn't know it was that bad.  You're surprised because they were always smiling.  You're surprised because you thought they had others to help them.  You're surprised because you didn't think they were serious.  You're surprised because they didn't tell anyone.  You're surprised...You're surprised...You're surprised.

It's time for people to stop being surprised.  It's time to stop being passive.  It's time to stop ignoring your gut instinct.  Time to stop assuming there are others.  And for God's sake - stop playing the "they're trying to get attention, they're just being dramatic, I had no idea..." card!  This is a real thing!!  This happens!!  And the fact that it keeps happening means that there are still people out there that don't understand that.  Are we going to be able to save everyone?  No, of course not.  But it shouldn't be because we didn't do everything we could.

You won't understand unless you've been there...

Since my last post, my world has been turned upside down.  That sounds like hyperbole, but it's really not.  In my head I am constantly thinking of reasons for why certain things happen and, in this case, I can think of many.  I can already tell you the positive things that have changed in my life because of two life-changing events.
The first event happened on April 21st.  After about a month of blood tests, X-RAYs and a bone marrow biopsy, my husband was diagnosed with multiple myeloma.  This is a type of cancer in which the bone marrow produces "bad" cells that affect the growth of "good" cells.  Yes, it's more complicated than that, but that's the gist.  On that day, I literally (and yes, I mean literally) kept waiting to wake up.  Most people with this illness are over 60.  The most serious thing Jon had ever had before this was an ingrown toenail.  He was immediately started on a regimen of drugs.  Doctor's appointments were made, lab appointments were made and suddenly our world revolved around cancer.
Remember the "shit hitting the fan" post?  Well that was April 22nd.  I had a breakdown that left me unable to breathe, and unable to see anything but pain in my future.  I kept thinking "What a tragedy."  We are a couple who knows what they have is special.  We are not perfect, but at the end of the day I am truly in love with him, and he with me.  I spent 5 years waiting for him to see what I already knew was there.  And now after 5 years of marriage that's being taken away?  It's not fair. Why us? <enter further questions and complaints here>
The next day was the first day of a new life.  We accepted a "new normal".  We were originally going to keep it somewhat quiet, but then we realized how many people it affected in one way or another.  After telling everyone, it was clear that the benefit of telling them was not for them, but for us.  The outpouring of support was overwhelming.  We knew we were loved, but now we feel surrounded by it.  There is a lot more to this story, but I have a site on Caring Bridge and chances are if you know us, you've seen it.
The reason I titled the blog the way I did is because this is a phrase I often hear people say when going through something.  I also used to use this phrase, as though it excused any crazy I was feeling because, well, people just didn't understand.  But I stopped using it a long time ago for two reasons.  The first is that, well, duh.  Of course I don't completely understand because I'm not you and you're not me.  Everyone is different. Even my husband and I are different and our ways of dealing with this are different.  So of course I don't completely understand.  Then comes the second reason: every time someone has said this to me, I have felt that there was nothing more I could do for them.  They don't feel I understand, therefore I couldn't possibly help.  But this is so untrue, and I have never felt that more than in the last 2 months.
The second thing that happened was that I lost my job.  As much as I could sit and contemplate why this happened or feel inadequate about my skills at a teacher, the truth is I will probably never know the reason. Maybe I really wasn't that good.  Or maybe it was something else, but it really doesn't matter.  I can't change it whether I understand it or not.  The one thing the principal did do for us was ensure a guaranteed sub position for me so that I am guaranteed pay as well as benefits until the end of January.  He didn't have to do that and I am so grateful he did.
Many people have mentioned a benefit and we had, at first, not thought we would have one.  Now that I have lost my job and will be losing insurance at the end of January, that will probably change.  We will probably try to plan one this year yet to hopefully raise money so we can afford to go on COBRA and not have to change insurance.
Anyway, as far as I am concerned, I have kept the depression mostly at bay.  I think this has been good for me in that I now have to take care of Jonathan.  He always took care of me and I think I allowed that to make me complacent and not stay on top of how I was feeling.  I will admit that when things get the best of me, it comes out in anger.  I have had a lot of crabby days where everything irritates me or I have a very short temper.  I am hoping to find an outlet for that now that I am no longer working.
I mentioned in the beginning of this post that, despite the devastation that came with Jonathan's diagnosis, good things had happened.  Here's a list:
-I have reconciled with God.  I am praying again and talking to Him. After everything that happened last summer at the church, I included God in my anger and bitterness toward the church without realizing it.  I have never needed Him more.  On April 22nd when I was in the midst of hyperventilating and sobbing, I begged God to show me that He was there.  I begged for the "sign" that people beg for in the movies...and I got it.  The next morning and external peace surrounded me.  I can't really explain it but I knew, no matter the outcome, that I would be okay, and that things would be okay.
- A forgiveness that I didn't think I was capable of occurred.  I attribute this to God as well.  He knew that I needed that in order for my family to get what they need.
- What we needed was God and church and community.  We have felt that and experienced that in a way that is inexplicable.  I am a visual person, and the only way I can try to explain it is picturing all the people we love, plus people they love and then people that those people love standing around us in a circle with their arms clasped and exuding light toward us as we stand in the middle.  What an energy it is.  That energy doesn't live here on Earth.
- I have realized that I need to stop being complacent.  As much as I like teaching, I never enjoyed it as much as I enjoy performing.  Jon and I have started writing again.  I plan to start gigging again.  We are also going to travel as much as possible.  We are no longer going to wait for that better day.  Life was already good, it's up to us to make it even better.

Lastly, I now firmly believe there is no coincidence.  I may have gotten let go from my job, but it was because of that job that we found Jon's cancer.  It was because I didn't take the job and move to Arizona last year that I got this job.  A few weeks ago Jon went into kidney failure.  He woke up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain and we took him to the ER.  He spent the next 6 days in the hospital while they tried to get his kidney working again.  The one thing they could never explain was his pain.  Despite being in kidney failure, nothing that was happening should have caused pain. Yet it was the pain that took us to the ER.

God is with us, every day, every minute, every second; and we are so grateful for it.