Mental Illness Runs in Families

Time for more of that honesty that people either like or have become tired of lately.

I’ve been dealing with some painful consequences of mental illness for the past few weeks, both my own and the issues of others. I wouldn’t wish some of the struggles I’ve seen on anyone. It’s particularly hard, because it seems to come from innate struggles (along with “nurture” problems, many of which stem from being raised by people whose mental illnesses caused them to inflict pain on those around them). And I got so down that I managed to forget what caused it until a friend reminded me there’s a name for what I deal with.

Somewhere among my mother’s maternal ancestors, some powerful genes that make life hard for those who inherited them got wedged firmly in the family line. I don’t know how far back it goes, or which part of my grandmother’s family passed the issues on to her and her siblings, but wow, it left a strong legacy.

I’m going to say this: I love my children, but I’m sorry that I passed on the tendency to have severe depression, bipolar, learning disabilities, and narcissism on to them. I am truly grateful that they are not extending this line forward, even though the good parts (intelligence, artistic gifts, and the ability to write well) won’t move forward to future generations, either. That’s difficult to say but seeing how my family inflict pain on each other and how deeply it affects the two of us plagued by RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) I just don’t want it to continue.

I don’t blame any member of my mother’s family for behaving how they do and making the choices they make. A combination of inherited instability and “abuse” (for lack of a better word) can make people do weird things to try to bring peace into their lives. My sister has cut off the rest of her biological family from her life. I do understand how, from her perspective, it’s what she needs to do, but I can still wish she’d gotten the help she needed and enabled the family who love her, warts and all, to be a part of her life.

On the other hand, those of us who have had to try to find ways to deal with how members of my mom’s family treated us are probably better off ending that pattern. My insane drive to not be rejected or abandoned has led me to try way too hard to please people who can’t be pleased, and that’s not helpful to any of us. Anyway, the struggle is real, and I’m back on track to managing my own issues better again, and I wish everyone else well as they deal with their issues.

I’d actually gotten pretty darn good at not blaming myself for every single thing people close to me say, do, or seem to do in my messed-up brain. I just slipped, and as I was trying to express this morning when talking to a therapist friend, you can intellectually know there will be setbacks in mental health recovery, but your limbic system still gets all out of whack. Repeat after me: other people’s actions are their responsibility.

Dealing with all this while holed up in a tiny room like a short-haired Rapunzel in her tower is not ideal. But I can always find ways to cope. At least I can watch Amazon Prime without worrying Lee about using up all our bandwidth. So, I watched three nice movies yesterday and that helped a lot! I watched Air, 80 for Brady, and Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris. All movies with strong women who made me smile.

Plus, there’s always random people you meet, along with the sunrises, sunsets, birds, and bats. This Rapunzel really isn’t trapped in her tower at all.