I’m starting to lose my patience. Well, I never really started with much from an infant and now into adulthood, but what little I have, I’m losing. Each day is just filled with such BS. So much drama and hate. Lack of parity and respect—even dignity. This is the legacy we will leave behind in our wake. This is what we will leave our children with.
Aren’t you tired? I’m so beyond tired. Keeping up with today is exhausting. Being a parent is exhausting. Being a wife, friend, daughter, sinner and blessed is so very exhausting. It gives me the impression that leaving the wonderful comforts of my bed isn’t really worth the effort. << That my friends, is depression.
When that one thought enters your mind—for me at least—it’s downhill from there on out. I live each day with such anxiety that my heart rate is such a staggered graph that it could be a work of Beethoven and one of his greatest symphonies. The intensity of it is just so hard to describe, the best I can say is watching one of those “Craziest Roller Coasters” video on YouTube and the entire video clip, by clip is my daily thinking, feeling and overwhelming fight. And on that rare day that I can ignore the pesky whining of the anxiety in my head, her bestie, depression stops in without invitation to party. And party she will. But she doesn’t always come alone either, nope, she brings a friend and that friend is Mania and she loves to party and she will party hard. I’m talking that one time on Spring Break where you couldn’t feel your face for three days because you weren’t sober enough to.
Mania, she whispers terribly in your ear and the things she promises, sounds like the best idea. Yes, I do need to buy six of those toaster ovens on sale, because one might break and I need backups. Yes, I would very much like to stay awake for 72 hours straight rocking back and forth and darting around my bedroom as if there are ants in my awesome Rainbow Bright pjs. You know what is even better? Buying that vacation home that you were weighing back and forth with hubby for months and hoping he likes your surprise, even though, you had to take out a bank loan that he knows nothing about but will undoubtedly figure out when you present him with your present. Rational thinking goes right out the window and the crazy, insane and what you believe to be awesome comes barreling in.
I have a book library in our house. It consists of over 1,700 books and counting…and a lot of them where purchased when I thought, “this is an awesome idea”. I don’t regret having them. Simply because I love books and know they will be read…someday. But what I do regret is that fact that in one day I though buying over $100 in books was okay and that my husband wouldn’t even notice…he did, in case you are curious. He noticed for sure. That was an innocent non day of rational thinking— I’ve had others were I went completely off the deep end and coming back took at lot of work—and courage.
But with these “deep ends” and “non deep ends” I still fight each day. I hide it. I keep it from you in more ways than you will ever guess. I smile. I laugh. I make jokes, I shop, I go about my day, and I even lie straight to your face that everything is fine. Nothing is ever fine in this head of mine. And that’s something that is so hard for anyone who doesn’t fight like this daily to understand. Most of the time, my own family doesn’t understand and it’s better just for me to pretend I’m okay, so it makes them feel better.
I lie to make them feel better. But, I don’t feel better. I feel helpless and alone. Empty and pathetic. Angry and hurt. Desperate and afraid. But you would never know it. And I’m not saying that I feel this way every day, because I don’t…but there are weeks that I do. Months that I do. And I won’t tell you. There’s no point. It can’t be fixed. It can be controlled I suppose with years of practice—it can be medicated—but it is ALWAYS there. I have three constant companions and if I haven’t already introduced them, allow me to again. Depression, Anxiety and Mania. They have a couple of friends that sometimes they bring with them without asking. They are Anger, Fear, Sadness and Denial. My own movie of “Inside Out” except, there is no empathy. Yeah, she jumped ship a long time ago. But when you add them all together in one big ol’ melting pot, the make a disgusting stew of Bipolar II disorder. I was diagnosed a few years ago, and I gotta tell you, makes a lot of sense in understanding my past behaviors. For years, I thought I was generally crazy—and turns out, I am.
This is were I want to take a quick time out to send an apology to all those I had relationships with in the past and most likely explains why a few of you still hold a grudge and won’t move on, get over that I broke up with you and accept my friend request on FB. And I suppose you were right to form a support group that I’m sure you called, “That Crazy Bitch.” I get it. I really do. Being with me wasn’t very easy, I’m sure my husband can agree with that—but I now have a medical reason behind it! So, yeah, let’s let go of the grudges. I would like to remind one of you that you broke my heart first before I broke yours, and I doubt I did because you were caught with your pants down. You know whom I’m talking about. But, I’m not here to call you out, but seriously dude, get over it. It was high school and you both hated each other before you had me in common. Either way, I apologize. Because some of it was me. I can’t and refuse to take all of the blame, because as I stated a few lines up, there isn’t need for more explanation on how that wasn’t my fault, I will take some of the fault. And with that, I’m sorry if I made your life a living hell or even made you question your own sexuality—I have a medical card in my wallet that finally labels me as “Crazy,” and that explains so much…doesn’t it?
I feel better. Don’t you? Sigh.
I don’t even know where I was before that little runoff paragraph up there. What was my point again?
Oh, right—I’m lying to you. I don’t mean too. Really, I don’t. I do it because I love you and I care. I do it because you really don’t understand me or it. I do it because it makes you feel better to pretend and though it kills me, you’ve been through enough with me. How much more can you handle? I wish I could tone down the crazy, but I really can’t. No amount of medication can change that. We’ve tried. But, I guess the main reason I do it, is because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that one day it’ll go too far. My crazy will drive you all away. And maybe, in some small selfish way, I want you to understand me and fight along side me. I’m so exhausted from pretending. I don’t want to any longer, but the minute you say, “mental illness,” people seem to freak out. They stereotype you and I guess maybe think it’s contagious or that I’ll fly off the hinges one day. Maybe because for the longest time, mental illness wasn’t talked about, but hidden in fear of being sent to a hospital ward. Maybe it’s because there is judgement. You may not even know you are doing that, but you are. I know for me, I worry what my openness with this illness will do to my daughter. How the parents of her friends will treat me or feel comfortable when their kids are here playing with mine. I worry about what it does to her and how to explain my daily behaviors to her that sometimes are just so out there, I don’t even know how to explain them. I know one of my largest fears is being told once again that I’m a horrible mother because I fight this illness. << This was actually truly said to me. At a terrible time in my life. In front of my daughter and husband, in my own home.
I get it. Learning that there is a mental illness floating around there and invading your loved ones life is threatening. You feel that way, because you don’t understand it. It’s just easier to believe the Hollywood standard which indicates that some where I will shave my entire head and sell everything in my closet while ranting about spiritual guidance and the lack of cheeseburger in my hands. Maybe that could happen. It’s a stretch, but I mean, that might be fun to try. But the reason, again for me, that I could fly off the crazy handle like that is because, there is no support. No understanding and then you just break. You can’t fight alone anymore and those ugly little demons partying in your head are screaming—you break. And when that break comes, the person with the mental illness, me, myself, is told to be ashamed and embarrassed—and are treated like the plague.
Trust me when I say, I wish I could feel normal, whatever the hell normal is. But I’m not and I don’t. And to be made to feel ashamed of who I am and what I fight daily…what gives you the right? And now, more than ever, in this pandemic, our children are facing their own party in their head and have no idea how to handle those emotions. We are so quick to judge, so quick to point fingers. “Oh, it was the media, that show was no good to be watching and lead to this.” “I had no idea,” “Why weren’t we told?” “Is this because “EMO” is considered trendy?”
That list goes on. But parents, don’t be stupid. This isn’t because of social media, or because they want to be a trendsetter. It’s because they can’t comprehend what they are feeling, only that it’s unfamiliar and frightening. When you feel alone or singled out, the last thing you want to do is come to someone that give tells you to “get over it.” Or “stop worrying about that.” “You’re fine.”
We aren’t. But we can be. We can be fine. Stop rushing to conclusions about these feelings. Stop demeaning them and down playing them. We can be fine when we are understood and shown love and compassion. Just because you don’t want to deal with our crazy asses, don’t turn us away. Bare with us. Help us, love us and help us know that we are safe and that you will be there no matter the crazy.
Today, with the pandemic surrounding us all, pressing down and suffocating our independence, take the time to learn what your spouse, child, sibling, parent or friend are feeling. Check in with them. Make the effort and with those that are truly struggling—hug them. Because everyone needs a hug, even you, but also because the comfort of someone you love being there and understanding, helps lessen the party in your head and it gives you something to anchor you, when you aren’t sure if you are floating away or just bobbing up and down in the water.
Wear that crazy with pride. And remember, you have someone that understands. You just have to reach out. You’re never alone.
Comments