Lets start with this caveat, life has been hectic and I have not been as medication compliant as I need to be. I am starting to feel the effects. Emotions and reactions are getting overly strong.
Today I peeked into one of the support groups I depended on heavily in the early days of my voyage into mental health concerns. I don’t stop in often anymore, as my journey has veered into permanent, not the temporary we all hope for when a postpartum mood disorder shows up. (see this post)
And there I found a thought that I totally related to and wanted to rail against. The mama listed all the meds she’s on, some I recognize as part of my cocktail. And she said being on a variety of meds made her feel like she really was crazy.
I get it, I do. And yet, I wanted to scream at her. Rail at her. Protest, how dare you be so callous?!!! YOU feel crazy? Gee thanks, what does that make me? You take about half of what I swallow every stinking day and will for the rest of my life.
Y’all, I do get it. I have been there. I was there today, and yesterday, and the day before…
And yet, I want to scream at her. I want to punish her.
She still has hope these meds won’t be forever. I don’t!!! Where is my hope? Where is the end of my crazy?
My crazy has gotten so bad I have to aggressively avoid news stories about depression and suicide, because what others see as incomprehensible, makes a heck of a lot of sense to me. I have been there. Thankfully, I am not even close right now, but I have been. I have stared into that hole and wished something would give me just a little push to let me go headlong in.
And that’s with the meds. Contrary to what some believe, the meds don’t make my brain work 100% as if the bipolar disorder did not exists, it just makes sure I can sort out the real from the lies.
That’s where I sit with my crazy. That might be where I always sit. I don’t know. It makes me mad. It isn’t really that lady at all, it is myself I am mad at. It is my med cocktail that ticks me off. It is the permanence of the struggle. I don’t know how long I will be here. I don’t know how long it will take peace and acceptance to come, but as of right now, it is not there, not even close.
Note: I am not suicidal at all, but as I said to a mom in our Christian homeschool co-op, “it just hits too damn close to home.” I’ll let you know if I get banned from co-op for swearing.