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As I Am: Living in Acceptance with Manic Depression

by Anne Neill

219 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0309; ISBN 1-55212-907-1; US$21.00, C$23.99, EUR17.50, £12.00

As I Am is the story of the journey the author took to live in acceptance with this powerful mental illness, manic depression.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book As I Am was a book written out of need. Manic depression caught me totally off guard and sent me whirling for years before I ended in the mental health unit. The night before I was admitted, one of my 'grandiose' ideas was to write a book about what was happening in my life to help 'people like me.' My book and the possibility of it becoming, became my therapy, my private solution. Literally, I examined in my mind every singe impacted memory and recorded my thoughts with the idea that I would be published some day. As I Am had over 40 different titles and took over six years to write and edit. This book takes you into the mind of a mentally ill woman who is on a journey of survival. You cannot imagine the trail I had to take to become a strong willed, self-sufficient, triumphant human being. This illness not only affected me but everyone who ever loved and supported me. My dedication to writing this book was influenced by their belief in me.

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About the Author Anne was diagnosed with manic depression in May of 1994. She chose to write to prove to herself the value of her intellect and of her life. Anne is a deep thinker who lives life to the fullest. She has worked as a service person for more than 20 years but her most treasured role in life is being married to her 'Dwight'. In her quest to help others, Anne offers a second book of the things she considers precious. Golden Specks is a collection of quotes and the author's photography compiled into a literary collection.

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Sample Excerpt - Chapter One

Before the Disagreeable Reality

I'm the middle child in a family of five siblings. (Yep, the neglected one: just joking mom!) We lived with about 7,000 other people in the small Ontario town of Iroquois Falls, a one industry-town created by the newsprint giant, Abitibi. My mom had country roots. She had been raised on a farm in Val-Gagne. My dad was brought up in Iroquois Falls but spent all his summers in a beautiful cottage on Nellie Lake, on Highway 11, the Trans-Canada Northern Route, about 50 miles northeast of Timmins, Ontario, and maybe 10 miles from Iroquois Falls.

We all had our own role in the family. It's funny how our lives evolved when you look back at our qualities of character. My sister Diane was the "mom" child, Richard was the "brain" child, I was the "clown and activities director" child, Mike was the "quiet one" and Sophie was our hippie "love child."

When I was 15, my parents moved us to the country, to a little place called Connaught, just a couple of hundred people and ten miles from Iroquois Falls. I felt that was a social injustice but soon became aware of the natural beauty that surrounded me and I began appreciating.

Yes, the sight of those firm gluteus maximus, puppy dog eyes...yes, there was beauty in the boonies. I met Dwight Neill. At first we were just friends. We played cards, "hung out, cool like," roared around on motor bikes, waltzed and jived at dances and went to the beach.

It was nothing serious, just kid's stuff. (Later, Dwight told me the second he laid his eyes on me, he told a friend, "That's the girl I want to marry some day.")

Then, the kid's stuff became adult stuff, you know, and when I rested my head on Dwight's shoulder, I felt the crisp breeze of love wrapping us together. I was one happy Northerner.

So, the stage is set, you've met the characters of my motion life. "Let the show begin."

Dwight was not in my life but for a few months when he started talking of forever. We were still in high school, and he recognized me as his "Brown Girl." (He gave me this nickname as a term of endearment. When he first met me, it was summer and my skin was very dark. I'd worship the skies, giving me a shading complexion.)

Well, the years flew as they often do. First year, we both graduated from high school, we both had jobs, he as a millwright, I as a service person.

Another year zoomed by, then a third and a fourth. We planned a wedding.

Dwight got scared of "for ever" and cancelled. Because of my buried insecurities, I felt I wasn't good enough. He bruised my heart, but we lived together and life was fine. Year four blended into year five. I worked 60 hours a week, two jobs at a time, (Studio 21 by night and The Fishbowl Restaurant by day). We finally got married and I gave my travel bug to Dwight. Jamaica one year, Brazil another.

We bought a "fix-up" house and boy, did we ever fix it. Year six, seven, year eight, and nine. There were many precious moments lived fully. We didn't have much time for us, but we got really busy with everything else.

My unconscious life script was "Do! Do! Do!" I'd landscape our land and Dwight would work side by side with me. Then he'd quit and say, "I don't work for the devil, just his sister."

I'd laugh and outlast him, carrying more than 100 wheelbarrows of earth a day. I could work. I didn't set limits on myself and my body didn't either. I'd never stop until I'd accomplished what I'd set out to do, and sweat was like a second skin to me. (What a feeling!)

As nature often tends to do, we were blessed with a child, "Brandon." Another year, we got our second gift wrapped up in placenta, "Adam!"

I had three men to take care of. What better time than now to take you into my baby's journals. I'd talk to my belly\baby through writing. Those moments were my most treasured up to that period in my life. Though an emotional time, you'll read how esteemed our existence was, before the illness.

These thoughts during pregnancy are actual. They are taken from my babies' precious diaries from July 1988 to the end of 1990.

August 1988: "Mrs. Neill, your test is positive and your doctor will be contacting you for your first appointment." I was very blissful.

August 10th, 1988: The very first person I told was Sophie, my younger sister, who was working at the same restaurant as I at the time.

August 23rd, 1988: Dwight woke me up at 4:00 a.m. to tell me how proud and awestruck he was of becoming a father. It had just hit him right then. I relished the moment.

August 30th, 1988: I was eating peanuts last night and Dwight took them away from me. "I don't want our baby coming out full of zits."

August 30th, 1988: Diane sent me a beautiful pregnancy sweat top and Mom bought me clothes also. Dwight was jealous. "How come I didn't get anything? I made that baby, too!"

September 17th, 1988: My mother's mother wrote me a letter from her home is Quesnel, British Columbia.

My dear Anne,

I am sincerely happy for you both, for your mom and for myself (about our first pregnancy). I await the arrival of this child by praying. You are still to me the little one of bygone days that I had so much fun with. Michel and yourself used to make me mud cakes and flower and grass soup. They were so nice! You thought I'd actually eat some when we were pretending.

About your marriage with Dwight, it was the wanted design. You chose well. You love him, and I love him also. I am anxious to see "la frimousse" (the face) of this little being. It will be a mixture of two beautiful worlds.

I ask myself why so many women refuse to give birth. I remember when you were born, when your father came to tell me. He said: "My poor Denise suffered without protest. She was smiling to me still." Like mother, like daughter.

I know you will endure the consequences with love by thinking of the child you will bear in your arms. It is so beautiful, a child kneeling, hands joined, with prayer in mind. I hope I don't bore you, it's just that I would like so much that we talk more of HIM in families.

I embrace you, my girl.
(5 kisses) Grand-mere, that loves you

September 17th, 1988: I burned our supper and I'm tired. Dwight vacuumed and washed the floors for the first time ever. He said, "Don't go telling anybody, either." (Macho!)

September 27th, 1988; Well, hello there kiddo! Your father carried me to bed in his arms last night because I fell asleep on the couch. He undressed me and rubbed my belly (that's you) and then tucked me in. Did you feel his love?

September 27th, 1988: Ben Johnson won (the 100 metres in the Seoul, Korea) and lost his medal. I, well, I baked four dozen muffins with my mom today.

October 13th, 1988: Are you tired when I work a lot baby? Eleven hours and 45 minutes today.

October 13th, 1988: Dwight's nickname of the month for me: Chesty Morgan (the chick with a 50 or 60 inch bust).

October 13th, 1988: I have such a bad cold, even my teeth, my hair, and jaw hurt, it seemed. (I'm not taking any medicine though.)

October 22nd, 1988: I was telling my boss, Louise, that I was going on a trip in southern Ontario and she suggested that we sleep in North Bay. I replied, "No, I like to go all the way, non-stop." She laughed at me and pointed at you and said, "We know that."

October 1988: I have 26 boy names picked and 37 girl names. Here's a few: Andrew, Brandon, Julian, Amelia, Linette, Mischa. I'm sure I'll change my mind again.

October 26th, 1988: I dreamed that I had a girl and I was a terrible mother. I forgot to feed her for two days. (Insecurity of self capacity? See, I always analysed everything!)

October 30th, 1988: I expect our new baby will give us an open line to selflessness, and all I want in return is "la joie de vivre" (joy of life) from witnessing his life. The true value of love is redefined for us.

November 1988: Dwight wants a boy and I'm trying to prepare him for the alter reality and he responds, "When we're in the hospital, I'll change name tags on babies to make sure I get a boy. If we have a boy, I hope he's sensitive and shares all his feelings with us."

November 20th, 1988: Dwight felt our baby move for the first time tonight.

November 1988: I feel movements all the time now and it's almost like a secret language between us. The other night, the baby was very busy and Dwight leaned toward my belly and said, "Ssssshhhhh." I enjoy this part a lot.

December 1988: When I see young women with tiny waists now, I stare and drool. Seems like I'll never be tiny again.

My grandmother Pelletier had her tubes tied after my father was born in 1932. She told the priest at confession, and was banned from his church!

A customer friend of mine gave me the following poem when he found out I was expecting.

The Mother

There will be a singing in your heart. There will be a rapture in your eyes; You will be a woman set apart. You will be so wonderful and wise. You will sleep, and when from dreams you start, As of one that wakes in paradise, there will be a singing in your heart, there will be a rapture in your eyes. there will be a moaning in your heart, there will be an anguish in your eyes. You will see your dearest ones depart, You will hear their quivering good-byes. Yours will be the heartache and the smart, Tears that scald and lonely sacrifice; there will be a moaning in your heart, there will be an anguish in your eyes, there will come a glory in your eyes, there will come a peace within your heart; Sitting 'neath the quiet evening skies, Time will dry the tear and dull the smart. You will know that you have played your part. Yours shall be the love that never dies; You, with Heaven's peace within your heart You, with God's own glory in your eyes.

Written by Robert W. Service

Thank you for the poem! You know who you are. It was most precious to receive.

December 1988: Late nights seem to come earlier.

December 1988: Isn't it nice how our child and I do everything together? It feels what I feel.

December 1988: I had a chocolate popsicle craving and I wanted one, as much as I wanted attention! Dwight went to the store (Connaught store had no popsicles in December, so he drove to Timmins, about a half-hour drive from our house, for me). As I ate my popsicle, I licked my lips, and smiled, non-stop.

December 1988: Hi, baby to be! I eat properly, no coffee, no tea, no alcohol. I go to the pool and exercise in the water for a half-hour, then I do 15 laps. I realize my body is your shelter to future health and simply, I realize it. (If there had been something wrong with our child's health, I could have accepted it, knowing I had not contributed to it.) I'm almost paranoid a bit, checking for food preservatives in everything and leaving when smokers find their way near me.

December 1988: I marvel at the fact that my whole way of thinking revolves around someone that doesn't quite exist yet.

January 17th, 1989: It seems weird that I can have so many strong feelings for someone I don't even know.

January 1989: After prenatal class, Dwight and I went to Lou-Lou's house and talked. Louise really thinks Dwight is a super guy. I slept over at Louise's because she was giving me a ride to the airport in the morning. I showed her my naked belly and she felt the baby move this morning. She's the first person to feel that besides Dwight and I.

January 22nd, 1989: I organized baby clothes I received from a shower and I felt like a little girl playing house. I liked the sensation that anticipation gives me.

January 1989: Soon, I will be getting a new life, for all of my life. I mean, they are really going to let me take you home when I'm released from the hospital!

January 1989: Is it really real?

January 1989: I fell hard off a stool today, and I hurt and panicked. I felt the baby move, there was no blood. I was sore for three days, but after a few days, the swelling in my back disappeared. One bad luck and your whole life can be changed. (Ain't that the truth!)

February 7th, 1989: "Holy shit, you're big Brown Girl!" Dwight exclaims. Did you know that approximately 22,896,000 seconds after conception, you will be delivered?

February 9th, 1989: I am a servant in my own body and this unborn child is the boss.

March 1989: Doc appointment. She said I was a very healthy specimen. We're fine. Whenever you want to come out, baby, it's fine with me. I can't wait to get rid of my cow clothes.

March 30th, 1989: I had a real crazy dream last night. The baby was kicking so much, that at one point, my skin ripped open on my right side and a hand stuck out and I was trying to push it back in and I don't remember the rest. (Scared of delivery to come.)

If I had my way, you would be born today. It's my late grandpa's birthday. So, is it today?

April 1st, 1989: It's Saturday, 5:05 a.m...I think this is it...and it was...16 hours later. (We had gone to an uncle's retirement party and I had danced, I mean boogied till 2:00 a.m.)

Mom assisted in the delivery and she said it was harder for her to watch me having a baby than her, having five. Our baby was stuck in the birthing canal for over two hours. When he came out, helped by forceps, he had a purple-black ring of bruising right around his head, a frown and red blotches here and there.

A healthy eight pounds 12 ounce boy though!

And my next pregnancy:

November 22nd, 1989: I made a doctor's appointment. Doctor told me I'm either pregnant or I have a cyst (no symptoms). It's hard to believe and I wonder.

December 6th, 1989: I am pregnant, but it's not real yet. I had an ultrasound, which was a sublime hour in my life. With a machine, I was able to see the baby quite clearly. It has hands, knuckles, elbow, legs, nose, ears. You are at 16 weeks gestation and I didn't even live through the first trimester of this pregnancy.

December 9th, 1989: It sure went fast. I felt the baby move for the first time.

December 27th, 1989: I don't feel pregnant, just a little pudgy. We are having the coldest December in 72 years. Are you warm, little one? I think of you every day, baby. When I tell people that I'm pregnant, the most common comment is "already" or "it must be cold in Connaught." Dwight rubbed my belly to get to know you, honey. He wants you to recognize his voice at birth.

January 12th, 1990: I have my first official pregnancy pimple today.

January 1990: Brandon slapped my belly in play and smiled: "Meet your big brother, baby."

January 1990: If it's a girl this time, I like Olivia. Boy?

February 3rd, 1990: I'm a little worried that I enjoy Brandon so much that I wonder if those feelings can be multiplied. I hope I am human enough to appreciate how they'll develop differently. Do you think the heart can hold so much love times two? I picked my favourite boy name: Adam Nathan Neill. His initials spell out my name. So what do you think baby?

February 23rd, 1990: I love you, sweetness. I believe that your life, the unfolding of you inside me, is the most amazing thing.

March 4th, 1990: Brandon was fussy, so I brought him in bed with us. I put my arm around him, my other arm around Dwight, and you inside, all in the same bed. How lucky I am.

March 4th, 1990: I wonder what awaits our family in the future. I am not the worrying type, but our lives are so full of love and luck that I worry. Something has to go bad soon because I've been happy for too long compared to other people's lives. Mom and I had a joke about Orida, her nervous friend. We had a one-liner for her. "When she relaxes, she gets nervous that she's relaxing..." I'm reminded of her when I think the way I do.

March 8th, 1990: I laid on top of Dwight and he said, "Hurry, get off, you're squashing me like a little pimple!"

March 25th, 1990: "Honey, do me a favour and come out early, okay?" Sometimes, when I walk in front of a full-length mirror, I'm shocked at what I see. I'm huge, even bigger than when Brandon was in there. It reminds me of a horror movie.

March 26th, 1990: I realize that what I'm growing through, OOPS, going through, can be all consuming. We are two in one and you are part of my every minute.

March 1990: Dwight and I stood in front of the mirror, lifted our tops and compared bodies...it was funny looking. Always, you baby, and I are together. The very first step to independence is the first second of life. Are you getting yourself ready, baby?

April 2nd, 1990: Dwight hugged me (and you) and said, "I love you already Adam Nathan, hurry up and come out." So I guess Adam Nathan it is!

April 1990: I can't wait until the word pregnant means nothing to me. I heard a name I like...Michael Colby...Dwight says no. I was dancing with Brandon today. Alanah Miles, I'm sure, did not have pregnancy in mind when she wrote: "Love is" but I do, especially the lyrics "You're in my system, you're under my skin. Raw emotion, please don't go!"

April 13th, 1989: I want to be me again, alone in my body. Sweetness, you stay safe in my body for as long as you need, and when you're ready to join our family, let the cramps begin!

April 13th, 1989: My mom's hardest labours were Michel and I. Last night, I dreamed I entered an eating contest and I won! Ha!

April 17th, 1990 : Brandon kisses my belly all the time. Dwight followed me and imitated my walk today, feet spread, pointing sideways, and waddling like a duck. He thinks he's real funny.

April 20th, 1990: I beat Dwight at cards and he said he let me win because it is important I be happy. Did you feel victorious, too? Did you know that when Dwight was young, he was so scared of the dark that he used to give candies to his friends just so they would walk him home at night? I just wanted you to know that, baby.

May 31st, 1990: I read from diaries to Dwight tonight and he brought me milk in bed and as he kissed me good-night, he said, "You're a good mom, Brandon is lucky." Brandon has two cribs in his room now. He peeks through the bars of the second as if to say, "So, where is it?" Dwight said tonight that his greatest gift that I ever gave him was his child and child-to-be.

June 1st, 1990: Well, I guess you'll be a June baby. I've been induced (overdue by 11 days).

Should I lay down to conserve energy, or should I stand to help gravity? "Doc, tell me what to do!"

Here goes! I was walking the hallway when my water spilled down my legs, in a warm sudden gush, right to the floor, and the nurse said: "You, get to bed, now!"

Marita (nurse) would hold my hand when the pain came and she would rub my back in between. Kim, my friend, rubbed my thigh and wiped my brow. She was very supportive. I yelled as I felt the new life squeezing itself between my bones. I winked at my doctor, kissed Kim's hand and pushed hard. Dwight hit every red light and finally arrived just minutes before the nurse said, "Call the Doctor. She's ready."

Adam was born. He arrived less than two hours from start to finish. Beautiful.

The one nurse took him away from me because he had a low heart rate and a high respiratory rate. He was put in an incubator on his first day.

He was nine pounds 15 ounces.

I told the doctor, "Can I put my legs close together like a lady, yet," and she laughed.

I also had diaries of the boys' lives and their growth. You can see how beautiful and loving our home was before the illness. For one or the other of our children, I wrote, "Thank you so much for being born, I love you." I cried from the joy: "At 11:33, I looked at you and wished you a happy anniversary; one whole day old."

Less than four hours after your birth, Adam, Louise Cantin held you (the first person besides your parents and Kim). She had tears rolling down her face. It was a beautiful feel good day.

I tried feeding you, but you didn't know what to do.

I want home. I want to be hugged and kissed. I'm in the hospital, you sleep, and I'm all alone.

June 2nd, 1990: Today, you feel like my son! You cry low for feedings, and your bottom lip quivers! From inside of me, created by love, you've accomplished your shortest trip.

Dwight says: "You know, Anne, when you yelled out we have a son! I gave you a son! My heart swelled up five times its size and I cried." (He was in the hallway crying when you were born.)

I don't think any child realizes how much it's loved until that child has children of her own.

I had you sleeping in my arms as I rocked you tonight. Your little head was tucked in my neck and your little bum was resting in the crook of my arm. (As I rocked our babies in front of our picture window, I looked out onto the lake.)

I don't think I could ever live without you now that I have you in my life.

I know you are happy and secure. Your little fingers are crookedly and elegantly spread apart, like a gymnast in your sleep.

Now, when you breast feed, you flatter me, and at times you stop eating, just to give me a Colgate smile. Then you stuff yourself again. As I watch you, I think, these are the moments I'm going to miss some day. I am in a place near paradise.

Dwight and I saw you make four, then seven, then 11 steps today! Your chubby, little legs struggled every move to stay standing.

Brandon, you are cute to watch with Adam. You use a special softer voice when you talk with him.

Now, back to the reality awaiting me.

Dwight was a good husband, a beauty of a person but 12 years into our relationship "it" set in. It happened just like that "marital limbo" that slipped into "marital coma." We paid off our house (bungalow). Dwight didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't beat me up, didn't take drugs, worked hard. What more could a girl ask for?

We shared nothing except our two smiling, bubbling legacies. We were almost always apart, one in the door, the other out. I liked the "out." Then I began to sigh at how totally different we'd become. We shared 'dead' conversations, and I shook hands with loneliness for the first time in my life. I wondered, "Which is worse to be alone together or to be lonely apart?"

I was stumped. Me, Annie, entered her first "gray area" and she had no answers.

Dwight and I went through the stages, at least I did: please, silence, work, sacrifice, do what you want, compromise, independence, and many more.

My least favourite stage was "I'll settle for crumbs" and my favourite was "I'm outta here, for now." My mom had taught me that one.

Her favourite "escape" was driving fast, always in control. Whenever life forgot to bring her roses, my mom would "take off" and bring us with her to the beach, to the farm, to Ottawa, to Toronto, on an adventure. Yes, my mom was definitely part gypsy. It was such a freeing emotion to just go! I was the gypsy's daughter. (Mom made a painting once of a field with an open gate and she named it: "Don't fence me in." Go Mama!)

Dwight and I took each other for granted. There was a joint lack of effort. An inch at a time, we slowly crawled away from each other. I don't think our relationship was irreparable, but then, with the illness appearing, we did not stand a good chance.

Him and his damn Eskimo treatment when I was dying for warmth! I truly yearned to have his magic in my heart again. I couldn't believe what was happening to us.

Love had gone.

But when did it leave?

Where did it go?

And when was it coming back?

Would it ever return?

We were playing an adult version of hide and go seek! (Lots of hide, but not much seek!)

Of course, I was righteous and young. "I'm not extending myself anymore in this relationship until he..." Dwight's favourite way of solving things was not talking, sometimes, not a word for days and days. Between my job and two children, there was no time to look for answers.

My mom once told me of love: "It's better to have a small, slow, constant fire that lasts forever, than a bonfire that dies in a fury." She forgot to tell me how to rekindle the small, slow flame in the dark, but now there was no time to question. I had to cook, clean, serve, work, work.

There was no time. Tomorrow, maybe. But not now.

I'd drive to work and back, hating arriving home at times. We lived 40 minutes away from my work place.

I imagined my mom's dream: Red T-roof, loud music, pony tail dancing in the wind and I remembered yesterday's reality: tear drops falling into the bucket, as I washed the floor. Then I'd get "lively" with wishful thinking for a better tomorrow.

I'd have loud music playing and I'd start to dance or I'd jump on my exercise stepper.

I'd also "run away" with the kids. Dwight would get home to an empty house and a note, telling him where we'd gone, always spur of the moment. Taking off worked for me. I'd get happy by running away, usually south, to Niagara Falls, Ottawa, Wasaga beach. Bye-bye!

It was great while it lasted but it didn't change anything and it never lasted!

You know the saying: "My way or the highway?" Well, my quote was "My way is the highway!"

I believed that if I went away enough, there would be open arms waiting for me when I returned.

I was mistaken.

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Catalogue Information

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