lafindumond post comment

I like this statement. "but an all consuming force, as natural as the body’s drive to heal itself; your soul must put right that which threatens it."
It explains better then people realize.

This type of depression/suicidal disease is not about "wanting to kill myself" From the mind of one so afflicted it is about having the "guts" to "fix" the problem. The diseased minds default mood. The body ever fighting to keep that mind from winning. That mind that wishes to move on, to be healed of it's infirmity, knowing that the only healing is in death, that mind will win.
But hope.
Hope that it is an ailment and not "me." Realization that sometimes only medication can give, that such a mind is not the "normal" workings of a physically healthy brain/chemistry. There is hope that can bring back life and aid those who are fighting so hard to live and be alive, against there own mind.
thanks sister

Lost in Mental illness.

Yesterday I got to have lunch with an old dear friend with whom I do not get to see much. Some things that we talked about made me think and I am feeling "inspired" to post.

This dear friend was expressing some concern and frustration with a family member who had broke down and is dealing with some serious mental health issues. In talking, my friend said one thing that made so much sense and I think happens so very often. She said
"it's like she is lost in mental illness."
She totally hit the nail on the head.

This friend said another thing at a different point in our conversing that day that in retrospect made a nice connection.

She asked what it was like for me. How I was different with and with out medication. She was interested because I have always been "functional." It's logical that one would wonder the difference.

It is hard not be frustrated and sometimes critical when we know someone who seems to fair better through something similar. And especially if we have endured some seriously hard hardships in our own lives.

That is human nature and it can be (in my opinion) a productive coping and building strategy.

However it is important to note that we are all different, have had different experiences and have different levels of, well, everything (various chemistry of the body noted here) that cause us to react differently. There is so much going into a persons mental health.

Going back to the conversation. I was explaining some of the things that she, and most, would not see unless I hit a breaking point. A point at which I no longer could keep my insanities hidden and/or myself "functional" in the public eye.
One thing I mentioned was the intense anger and sometimes violent feelings and urges I would have to fight. She responded "and that's not you."
She is right THAT is NOT ME.
We were roommates in college. And when I say roommates I mean we shared a room more close in size to a closet then a room. It fit a bunk bed, barely, and not much else. We were close friends, we shared just about everything and knew each other well. It is nice when there are people in the world who know who you are and were for just that and not for a degenerative disorder that changes things.

She is absolutely right, that is not me.

I am an optimist but I struggle with a very dark, negative and hopeless depression. I am a deep thinker and quite logical, always have been, but there are times when I can be quite irrational and ridiculous. A black hole of open-minded-ness. It's incredibly embarrassing to look back at. It scares people away and there is often no recovering- no winning them back.

One thing I do know is that I have been fortunate enough to have felt "normal" in my life. At least what I like to think is normal.
I think I likely had a head start on dealing with mental health issues when I was put away for a day, against my will, by some one in authority, and I had to face something I knew little about, did not understand and did not know if I accepted anyway. I was also put on a medication that was not only extremely hard, if not impossible, to get off of but worked. It took a year to get me there, but it worked well enough.
I also had good influences and accepting friends. This dear friend being one of those. My family loved me and though they did not (yet) understand and did not know if they accepted it as a true ailment, they tried. They did not abandon me but they also DID NOT enable me or excuse bad behavior.

This dear friend is right that is not me.
"That" was MOSTLY mental illness, some the result of an old head injury (brains don't heal and head injuries change things).
But I still had options. I am not a victim of my chemistry, my disorders, my illness, what ever you choose to call it. Or even my injury.

I realized in those little grains of wisdom from my friend that if we do not want to become lost in our mental ailments then we have to know and/or decide who we are.

devloping identity

Two posts today. Read the first posted first and this will make more sense. But I think this post needed to be split.

I am happy.
I am easy going.
I love to do things.
I love to play.
I love adventure.
I love people.
I am intelligent and rational.
I like having a family and home (usually)
I believe in humanity.
I am friendly, though I can be shy and reserved.
I am not super neat and tiddy.
Sometimes I say stupid things.
Sometimes I don't want to fight.
Sometimes maybe I hide when I should not.
Sometimes I avoid things.
I am a bit lazy.
And I am NOT crafty.

...and many other things.
that is me and I am ok with that.

But I am also hypersensitve and I have to watch that closely. My deep thinking can get me in trouble and I have to watch that. I can be over the top, angry, slap happy for no reason at inappropraite times, and ridiculous. Darkness can creep in. I can have some serious anxiety...
...and many more things.
But that is not me.
And when those things start becoming me, when it takes all I've got to keep myself in check. When I become too affacted by every song, picture, movie, book, dialogue, I am exposed to then I can know that I might be loosing myself in my chemistry.

I don't think everyone has had that opportunity to develop their identity. I don't think everyone has been able to feel "normal" and if you don't have that to go back to then how can you? If you have never had a rational thought in your life then is there hope?
I don't know.
I suppose my ideal would be that people with mental ailments might be able to at least identify who they want to be and then do what ever is necessary to get there. Comprimisses will likely be necessary and we are likely, in our less-then stable and rational states, to have an unrealistic picture of who we would like to be. But maybe there is at least some hope for some of us in treating the issues at hand.

It is easy to say and believe it is possible from this side of the glass anyway.
And yet that statement could at least give hope to those who are not yet on this side of the glass.

Holiday Blues.

I'm not sure if it is too much sugar, not enough veggies, lack of exercises and sun or just me (OK I know better it is linked to all of that).
But I feel a bit low. Sometimes I feel "depressed" at the prospect of being "depressed" and that is just stupid.
I still DISLIKE taking medication. Sometimes I feel a bit numb and I often wonder do I really honestly need this? And WHY?
I think I can fix it on my own... even still and probably more and more as I am "normalized." My smart little brain knows that there is really no such thing as "normal" so why am I medicating.
I'll be honest, I greatly dislike the depression and I think I am probably more willing to continue on medication to keep those nasty feelings away. Every now and again I get a little wave of it, and I can tell you that it is most certainly physical. I've waken with that dark, anxious, nastiness and just thinking about it makes me want to cry. I hate to say it and I know that life is not fair and also that I've got much that I am so blessed with (my list would be too long to publish) but my mind still is thinking it at the moment... it's not fair. I said it... I know that one really never knows but it is easy to know that some really do not know those demons of death and darkness.
blah blah, this my whining for the day.
But sometimes I feel sad at the prospects before me and some of my beloved family members (like my very intense five year old son who has already made references to death as an escape, and no, he has not heard it from us. He will be an entry focus another time). What will happen to me in the insanity of the world and my own mind? Must I be medicated? I just want to be free. But I am sure that is the desire of most people in this world, just for different reasons and trails.
I guess that is where some of the longing for death comes from. Though I don't feel it now, my logical brain recognizes it. It also recognize that though we have all sorts of religions and various beliefs of the after life we really don't know what awaits us and "freedom" in death could be nothing more then an illusion.

I feel better writing.
Thanks to anyone who cares to listen. Thanks even more to anyone that feels what I am saying.
I quite liked my blog background today... Maybe it will stay awhile after all.

The other side of the glass

I remembered that I really don't like pink that much. I liked the design but it was just too pink and hurt my eyes invoking a tiny bit of nausea whenever I'd return to my blog. So I had to change my blog background.

Probably if I was really cool I'd create my own thing, but I'm not. So I pick from what is already available and that works just fine for me. There is always something that goes well with "Am I crazy" anyway.

So though I don't love the one I picked and it does not seem to be super reader friendly I picked it anyway because it reminded me of a time (not so long ago) when I felt very detached from life. I had explained it to my doctor as feeling like I was watching life through a window or from the other side of the glass.

I'll probably change it again soon.

the realities of life

On another note. I miss my brother. The suicide aspect is a bigger struggle for me now then the first year. It may be because my mind and chemistry is straightened out enough that I am no longer relating so well.
I feel angry about it. It is helpful to know that is a normal and expected stage of grieving... considering my delayed development I may be angry at the forces that be for awhile.
Mostly I am sad, extremely sad about it.
I miss him and I hate knowing that he is not coming back. My heart aches because of how he died and that it was at his own hand.
I am having to face that it was not just a bad dream. I went through an extended period where I must have been half awake and half asleep because it really did seem like just a bad dream. I am pretty sure in my awake life; if it was just a bad dream then my asleep life would confirm as I dreamed about this bad dream that really wasn't so... I know, it's confusing.

But reality sinks further and further in. And my eyes well with tears often as I realize this new reality. I am so sad that I do not get to see him for the rest of my life. I am sad that even the dreams of him have become few and far between. They may just be dreams but it is always nice to see him. I was allowed a dream of him the other night... I woke myself up I was so excited to see him and hug him. I was sobbing as I woke and lost that moment.

I don't want to forget my brother...
I don't want him to get farther and farther away.

"I like munnee"

I like to write.
I find it to be a good outlet.
Sometimes I write big ol' long e-mails. Sometimes they are answered and sometimes not. I am ok with either (usually) because I like to write anyway.

Sometimes I write random notes here and there.
Sometimes I write in journals
and sometimes on the computer like it's a journal.
I jot down ideas and epiphanies in random places to better hold on to them.

I like to read.
I sometimes like to read the things that I wrote.
I can see in the things that I wrote how I was feeling and who I was at the time of my writing.
I like to read the level me writings just fine. Sometimes they are interesting and sometimes dumb but they are easy and sometimes fun to read.
Sometimes my writings are very down and depressing. Sometimes they are angry or dark. I don't mind reading those. It often helps me feel good about where I am and the progress I have made. I can enjoy and appreciate life more knowing that I am not down like that.
Then there are the overly excited happy or anxious writings... The up writings (a bit of a manic undertone... or would it be overtone?)
I can't even make myself read those.
They are incredibly embarrassing... Though I find it hard to destroy or dispose of writings or pictures (it just feels wrong) I do occasionally throw those out in a thousand tiny pieces or even burn them.
...
And yet I felt so hyper, happy, obsessed, excited, spiritual and/or alive when I would have written such things.
...
That is all I have to say about that.
Except that sometimes I am an idiot and I hope that people can be patient. Maybe even understanding.