Most of you know, I suffer with bi-polar. Let me change that verb. I have bi-polar. I decided not the use “suffer” because I don’t live a life of suffering. I live a life of challenges – the challenge to stay out of the pit, the challenge to stay focused and not cave to impulsive behavior, the challenge not to judge myself for my “issues”.
Depression is often depicted as a deep hole in the ground. The depressed sit at the bottom. The walls are high and there ARE NOT many handholds. The bottom is cold and smells rotten. The light at the top is so far away it’s impossible to imagine the strength to make the climb. Sometimes it’s impossible to imagine ever standing to your feet in order to extend to the hands reaching down to help.
Another feature of the pit that most people don’t imagine is the ladder. For the chronically depressed, this ladder is the type that’s used in rocks – kind of like staples. They are hard to see, hard to wrap her fingers around. It takes a lot of strength because the climb is vertical.
For others – bi-polar and acute depression – the ladder is more like you’d find in a library. The ladder slants into the room and has handrails. The climb is hard, but the incline makes it more manageable. Thankfully, this is the type of ladder into my hole.
When I was a girl, my father was building our house. He would stand at the top of his ladder (and to a little girl that was a damn tall ladder). He’d call down for me to bring up a tool or a box of nails. My little body would fill with excitement of adventure and fear of falling. I was going to climb the ladder. My hands would start to sweat and that would add to the experience.
With a tool strapped to my belt or a box tucked under my arm, I’d put one hand in front of the other and make the climb. That was hard but not the point of today’s blog.
I always made it to my father. I’d hand over the requested item and then it was time to go back down. I’d look at the ground and my excitement turned to nausea. I couldn’t see the next rung below me. I’d grope and hang for a split second in the air. My father used to get angry with me, call me a chicken and shame me into moving. My mother would stand below, holding the ladder and coaxing me down. Once I found the first rung with my tiny feet, I gained confidence and moved to the ground with ease.
What’s the point? Over the last few weeks, my book hit the market. I got some unwelcome news. I’ve taken on “too much” and therefore I’m more stressed than normal. I’m at the top of the ladder and depression is calling me to come on down.
When I was a girl, once I moved my foot one rung down, I was able to go all the way without stopping. If I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it, it was easier to reach the ground. It was the first step I would struggle to complete. The same is true for stepping down into the pit. If I can find the first step, I rush to the bottom. But I don’t want to be in the pit. I want to stay at the top where, like my father, I accomplish something. At the top, I pound nails and achieve my goals.
So, I have to recognize the first step and not put my foot on it. In the past, when I was really hurting, I didn’t even try to recognize the beginning of the descent. The pit, you see, was comfortable. Not pleasant but known.
But now, I recognize the pit for what it is, and I’d rather not go there.
In the last few weeks, I’ve been able to identify my very first step. It’s actually quite easy to see. When I’m about to descend, I start to question everything I’m doing.
MY first step is ALWAYS the desire TO QUIT – give up what I’ve worked for (my career, my hobbies, my relationships) – judge what I’ve accomplished (or not accomplished).
When I recognize that step, I can turn around and climb back up. I can head to the roof and my bucket of nails. I can climb back to my goals and get to work. But I HAVE TO RECOGNIZE the start of the descent.
It’s hard to recognize the first step once you’ve started the descent. But when you land at the bottom (or hopefully stop in the middle of the ladder) and take the time to think backwards, you have a chance to halt and move back up. Unwind the thought process. We don’t jump into the pit. We take a ladder down – one foot in front of the other. Take the time to find the first step. I think you’ll discover it’s most often the same. Your pattern, your trigger. For example, maybe your first step is:
When I recognize the step, I don’t automatically stop the desire to quit. But I can say to myself – “this is your first step. Don’t make any decisions at all. Don’t spend any $. Use some of your go-to self-help techniques.”
Yes and no. For me, I find myself recognizing the first step and still taking a couple more toward the pit. But I also find myself stopping and turning back to the light. I rarely get all the way into the pit. Even if I end-up in the mud, I don’t stay as long. I find the stairs easier and the climb faster.
What is your first step? Is your first step the same each time? How can you encourage yourself to turn around and head to the roof? Can you make a plan to stop your pattern or at least slow it down?
Copyright 2021 June Converse, All Rights Reserved.