One of the lucky ones...

I was raised to not believe in luck. A saying in my family was, "but for the grace of god go I." We were taught that we made our own luck, and the harder one worked the luckier one got. If you were in a superior position, you were to go forward with humility, considering that others were less fortunate and you were were blessed.

I still think that way, but my experience with mental illness has caused me to question many things and has challenged this way of thinking. Truth be told, I am one of the lucky ones. My depression finally responded to medication. Yes, it took many trials of different meds and different combinations, but my doctors and I finally found the right mix to keep me stable. Many others are not as fortunate.


I recently joined an online support group for families and caregivers of the mentally ill. I joined because of my brother who lives with bipolar disorder. The group addresses all sorts of concerns for getting help for your loved one. It also chronicles the struggles of so many who suffer from serious mental illnesses. I find myself reading their stories with sadness. The problems seem so insurmountable. Many refuse treatment, or fail to acknowledge they are ill. The families who participate in the group share their utter frustration at the vicissitudes of the illnesses and their feelings of powerlessness. Sometimes after reading their stories I experience a grief reaction. I recognize their feelings of hopelessness as they deal with their loved ones.


I experienced hopelessness and helplessness while at my most depressed. I was pushing the proverbial boulder up a hill and the boulder kept rolling back and crushing me. My depression for many years was a constant. I lived in a state of grief, despair and a kind of fog. Everything felt heavy, life was a burden too hard to bear. For whatever reason I did not seek to end my life and for that I am grateful. Again, many are not as fortunate.

So what do I do now that I am moving from recovery to wellness? I think I need to recognize that I am lucky. Despite the fact that I have worked hard in recovery there is the "luck of the draw" factor. I am one of the fortunate ones who have responded to treatment and have had support and a track record of successes. Given all that, I believe my response to such luck should be to help those who find themselves still suffering from the symptoms of mental illness. Yes, but for the grace of God go I, but also, it is incumbent of me to reach out to those affected.

I know that my recovery is a fragile thing. Bipolar illness is chronic and cyclical. I may become depressed again. I might experience mania, the drugs may become ineffectual, or I may have a breakthrough of symptoms. It scares me frankly. Yet, I hold on to the hope that I may not experience relapse, and my efforts will produce a sustained period of wellness. And so I move forward, not without fear and trepidation but forward nonetheless.