A Filipino American candidly shares her journey of mental illness (Bipolar Disorder) during the pandemic.
By Marilette Sanchez
Q
ueens, New York, June 2020.
Fear enveloped our once vibrant city. Rising cases of the newly-named coronavirus led to a stay-at-home order by New York Governor Cuomo three months prior. I was stuck in our 1000-square-foot apartment with five kids under nine, including my nursing infant. My husband did the grocery shopping, so I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left our apartment. No in-person church, no homeschool co-op, no public parks. At the time, we all thought it would last for just a few weeks. But here I was, four months in.
I was in full-time ministry during an unprecedented time of communal grief and loss. I was worried about my dad’s health. His bone marrow condition made his immune system weak, leaving him defenseless against COVID-19. When my parents arrived from the Philippines for the summer—out of an abundance of caution—my family and I only waved out the window as they drove by the apartment. This was the most contact we’d had with them in months.
In hindsight, I see how the culture I was raised in as a Filipino American led to my attempt to care for everyone around me at the expense of my own rest and health. I put others’ needs before my own, which had led to a people pleasing tendency and my lack of connection to my own needs and desires. My world was falling apart and everyone needed me. But the pressure was becoming too much, and I was losing sight of what I needed. I needed to stop. And I needed Jesus.
Soon, the insomnia set in.
I lasted for a full week on two hours of sleep per night. But instead of feeling groggy, I felt energetic—euphoric even. My sister noticed how l quickly I spoke, rambling incessantly. It’s like my mouth couldn’t keep up with the speed of my mind. It was a far cry from my usual mellow, reserved personality. By day six, I wasn’t making much sense. I remember telling my husband Moses that I could ask God any yes or no question and he would quickly answer. I burst outside into the street late one night, claiming God told me to do it. I lost all inhibitions. I lost touch with reality.
Before I knew it, family and friends were at my house praying for me into the night, to no avail. By day seven, I had moments of unexplainable paranoia, eventually becoming so aggressive that, when the paramedics came, they restrained me on a gurney so I wouldn’t hurt myself or others.
I was hospitalized for a total of ten days, released with the diagnosis of Bipolar 1 Disorder. What I’d experienced that sleepless week was called a manic episode with psychosis.
I’m on the road to recovery.
My Asian American upbringing has led to my disconnect with my own needs, and my overemphasis on fulfilling others’ needs. It’s been an uphill battle to learn self-care and how to accept help from others. I don’t have it all together. Though, there is much to celebrate: I’ve learned to invest in my friendships, I’ve grown in my ability to care for myself, and I’ve learned how ministry can be draining and how I need to recuperate via solitude. I am glad to share that I now treat my mental illness with medication (as I would a physical illness), therapy (a gift from Jesus), as well as diet, exercise and supplements. I’m making so much progress that I’ve gone from seeing mental health professionals several times a week to checking in every few months.
But even today, I am tempted to regret or feel shame. Why didn’t I take better care of myself? Why didn’t I reach out for support instead of taking on everything by myself?
My mind needs renewal daily.
Almost a year to the day since my hospitalization, I had a mini-breakdown with my husband. As we prayed, I heard a phrase from the Holy Spirit that got me bawling: “Grieve normalcy.”
As the cleansing tears washed over me, the Father met me. He told me it was okay to miss the carefree days when my mental stability wasn’t always at the forefront of my brain. It was okay to miss the days before I had to remember to take medication daily, before this newfound responsibility. It was even okay to grieve the loss of normalcy that the whole world was experiencing alongside me, in a pandemic.
I’ve had to learn to depend on the Lord for my strength, for His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
It wasn't my choice to have this experience, this mental illness, this ongoing battle. But God, in His sovereignty, has allowed this struggle to be a part of my story. So I trust Him and His process and strive to be a good steward of it. If one person silently suffering with mental illness reads this and is encouraged, it will have been worth it. If one person gains a new perspective on their loved ones who are suffering with mental illness, it will have been worth it.
We rejoice in our weakness.
The truth is, despite moments of regret and shame that sometimes plague me, I am thankful. While I don’t believe that God causes sickness, including mental illness, I believe He can redeem anything. What the enemy meant for evil, God uses for good.
“And I am certain that God, who began the good work within [me], will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.” Philippians 1:6 (NLT)
A Godsend of a friend once told me, “What I see is God fighting for you, helping you, walking with you, holding your hand, carrying you, and answering your prayers.”
None of this is easy, but if it draws me closer to my Savior, it is worth it.
If you or a loved one is experiencing a mental health crisis, there is help. Contact SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357),via text message: 435748(HELP4U), or TTY: 1-800-487-4889 is a confidential, free, 24-hour-a-day, 365-day-a-year, information service, in English and Spanish, for individuals and family members facing mental and/or substance use disorders.
This service provides referrals to local treatment facilities, support groups, and community-based organizations. Read more about the HELP4U text messaging service.
Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash
Marilette Sanchez is a wife and mother of five young kids first, but put some coffee and a pen in her hand and she is unstoppable. She and her husband work for the Christian non-profit organization Cru, working alongside marriages and families. New York City natives and college sweethearts, they are known for their transparency and their ability to inject their love of hip hop and pop culture into their discussions of love, sex and marriage. Follow their parenting and homeschooling journey on Instagram at @bigcitybigfamily and Marilette's musings on womanhood and pop culture at www.MariletteSanchez.com.