Too often, I hear older clients say that they just expected their mood to drop once their children were out of the home and their own illness and the deaths of friends and relatives began to weigh on them. After all, at some point, “it’s all about loss,” as one retired engineer told me.
Upon getting a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, people often ask, “Why God? Why me? I’ve been a dedicated ___________________ (fill in the blank: Catholic, Christian, Jew, Hindu, Bhuddist) all these years.”
People of faith find comfort in their belief that the ways of God are unknowable.
It makes perfect sense intellectually that a support group can give you great ideas for coping with your diagnosis. After all, many of the attendees have experienced what you’ve experienced. They’ve tried treatments, been handled awkwardly by relatives and struggled with inappropriate shame on their own for years . . . just like you.
And yet when you stepped into that first support group meeting, it was torture, pure torture. The attendees obviously had far more problems than you did. They were weak, pathetic, WEIRD.