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How did she get here? The mother of one who comes from a family with bi-polar disorder explains her predicaments in an interview with BBC. Read her story after the cut...
''There
is a history of mental illness in my family. My brother lived with
bipolar disorder and the household was often chaotic as a result. Our
family never discussed it. To the outside, we looked like the Brady
Bunch. Looking back, there were signs something was not quite right with
me either.
"'I
did everything at a mile a minute and couldn't focus for the life of
me. Growing up, I lived with an eating disorder, had suicidal thoughts
and a suicide attempt in college, then experienced severe anxiety when I
raced. But I kept it all in, trying to maintain the facade of the
perfect Midwestern girl, strong and powerful.
If others noticed any problems, they looked the other way. I usually won, and they liked it that way.
''Running
seemed to be the one thing in life that quieted my brain, and because
of that, I loved to run and grew to obsess about it.
I saw my winning races have a positive effect on my family, namely my
parents. I strangely grew to feel that my success could make this a
happy family, and take away any silent pain we were experiencing as a
result of my brother's odd behaviour.''
''My
running career was highly successful. I won more NCAA Championships
than anybody ever had. I won seven US Championship titles between 1991
and 2004, set a couple of American records, and made the 1992, 1996 and
2000 Olympic teams.'
''I
won a lot, but tended to "choke" at the big, big meets. I didn't know
why and it ate at me. My body would just tighten up on me unexpectedly
towards the end of a race. Like I was running with a piano on my back. I
even fell on purpose in the 1500m final at the Sydney Olympics when, as
the favourite, I knew I would not medal with 50 metres to go.
That
was easier to swallow than failure. I wanted so badly to win that one
for my family, to ease the pain of losing my brother Dan to suicide the
year before.''
''Incredibly,
I never thought of myself as having any kind of brain disorder. All I
knew was that I dreaded competing. Filled with anxiety most often, I
could not wait to retire, but I marched on to please others.
Finally,
in 2005, I got pregnant. Having a child would be my way out. This was
my excuse, and I could not wait to be a mom. I would have a baby, maybe
two, and live a life of perfect happiness. But that's not what
happened.''
''Months after having my beautiful daughter, I was in a dark place.
''A
new "real world" job in real estate, a suddenly strained marriage, a
disintegrating relationship with my siblings, strain with my parents, a
miscarriage, then another, feelings of inadequacy of being a mother. It
was building up.''
'All
I knew was that I had to hold my daughter all the time. I could not let
go. I had no motivation to run. I rocked myself constantly. I was
irritable like never before. And then I decided I wanted to run my car
off the road, into a tree. I just wanted the pain to stop.Thankfully, I
thought of my daughter, resisted those thoughts, made it home, and told
my husband.''
''Soon,
I saw a doctor, was diagnosed with post-partum depression, put on
anti-depressants, and things improved. Years passed. Triggers
intensified. I was getting by, but had grown to detest the side-effects.
I felt fat, sluggish, unmotivated. I stopped taking the drug that had
been keeping me somewhat stable.''
''It
didn't take long, but before I knew it, I was in that dark place again.
Suicidal. Triggers everywhere. My marriage was deteriorating. My family
was driving me crazy. I had a modest speaking career, but they insisted
I not publicly speak about my mental illness or my brother's bipolar
and suicide. I hated my real estate job. I just wanted to escape.'
My
doctor put me on another anti-depressant. The effects were immediate. I
felt great. I felt beyond great. I felt alive. I wanted to live. Time
for my fantasies to now become a reality.
''Our
20th wedding anniversary was coming up. A nice dinner date out on the
town with flowers perhaps? Not for me. I wanted to go to Vegas, jump out
of a plane, hire an escort, have a threesome. Bucket list stuff I never
thought I would actually do. Never. I wanted it now.'
Skydiving
was amazing, something I would never dare do, but I was doing it. Then
the threesome. Now this was life changing. I was a new woman.
''How had I been missing out? Freedom. I wanted sex. It was all I could think about. Our marriage was on fumes.
I
asked for and was granted permission to stray. An open relationship we
would try. Divorce was not an option, not for my daughter or for
business. To keep things steady, or at least seemingly steady.'
''Over
the next six months, I made several trips to Las Vegas on my own. First
meeting with a male escort, then hooking up with men I met at casino
bars, then insisting on gifts in exchange for sex. And then the light
bulb flashed. I wouldn't hire the escort. I would be the escort.
Within
months, I was the number two-ranked escort in Vegas (yes, there
actually are rankings out there), and top 10 in the world. I was never
happier, never higher, never more alive.''
''For
the first time in my life, I was independent, could take care of
myself. I loved the taboo, the riskiness, the slight danger to it all,
and I always had to take it a step further. It was never quite enough.''
The
money was intoxicating, but not the driving force. It was the thrill,
the risk, the taboo, the attention, the power, the sex. All the while,
an infuriated Mark covered for me, protecting my reputation, raising our
child, keeping the real estate business going on his own, while I was
off, totally out of control.
A
year into my life as an escort, I was outed by a jilted client. A
tabloid told of my activities to the world. My life had been taken
away.Suicidal thoughts crept back in. The world came crashing down on
me. My husband would leave, take my child, my parents would abandon me,
as would my friends, or so I believed.
To save these relationships, I felt compelled for once to seek help, even if for appearance sake.
''Admittedly,
I was beginning to feel there was something wrong with me after months
of denial. This was the first time I had ever visited a psychiatrist. I
tried my best to fool him that I was fine, that I could continue with my
life "as is".
But
within a couple of weeks, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder weaned
off the anti-depressant that the doctor believed had driven me to a
mostly constant manic state over the past year and a half.'
''The process of recovery would begin, slowly, with several bumps and relapses along the way.
My
husband did not leave. He did not take my daughter from me. My parents
failed to understand why, but they stuck with me, loved me the best they
knew how.
Friends
bailed on me, but many remained, though confused by it all. I had some
support in the athletics world, but some considered me an embarrassment
to the sport and wanted me to just go away. I also had to quit the real
world job as it was not good for my bipolar.
My
bipolar is manageable now. I learned to feel no shame for what I did.
Regrets yes, but no shame. Shame holds you back and prevents recovery.
What
hurts most though is what I put my loved ones through. My journey, as
odd as it was, moulded me into a person I'm happier with.
''I
have more of a voice. I'm more independent. I'm a better wife, mother
and friend as a result. I teach yoga and I am a public speaker on mental
health matters. I'm healthier than I ever have been, I believe. I've
found healthy coping mechanisms. I'm more compassionate than ever as I
know what it's like to be shamed and shunned on an intimate level.'
''I'll
never be cured, and I'll live with bipolar for the rest of my life. I
know it won't always be smooth sailing ahead. But I'll always know that
as dark as things might get in the future, it always gets better'
Source: BBC
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