IS IT ME?

Everyday I have the same routine. No deviation, no need to change things because it works. This blog is not really going to be about mental illness, and even though I want to keep with that genre, there are times when things in our lives are more interesting. No talk of OCD or Bipolar or even anxieties. Today is a new day with new thoughts.

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I woke this morning at 2 a.m. and I was out of my element. I grabbed my cane *oh i fall a lot so it's to keep my knees from any more scars* and go sit outside. Now, I don't particularly enjoy the outdoors, especially when it is very hot but this morning it was very nice. I light up a cigarette, sit back and close my eyes until I feel something extremely slimy touch my foot. I am not sure if I ever mentioned that I do not like surprises, spiders, snakes, gingivitis, ingrown toenails and an assortment of other things, but I found a new dislike: SLUG.

At first I could only feel the slime, then it was weird because it almost seemed like a glowing dog turd was moving. It was the first time I had actually been around a slug, but there she was, by my foot and leaving a glowing trail behind her. I actually freaked out so much that I leaned over and puked. Well, more like dry heaves, but that counts as puking to me. I just happened to have my laptop with me and I Googled slug. To my surprise they will not harm me, but every time I looked at it I would dry heave. I could not leave because I felt as though I was kidnapped by this gooey mass.

I hate to finish the story on this note, and please believe me when I say I had no idea what I was doing. I leaned over in the chair watching this snotty goo get ready to go over my foot when I threw up bile on not only my foot, but also the slug. I killed her. I freaked out because it started to pull it's body up and turn. I watched in horror as it transformed before my eyes. My heart was breaking for this glob and there was nothing I could do for it. The worse part of the entire ordeal is how long it took it to shrivel up. Yes, I said shrivel up. For an entire hour I was stuck in my patio chair watching the death of this innocent thing. I said a prayer for it. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. One of the grossest things I have ever came across and I prayed for it.

The weird part of this blog is I didn't mean to even write about that slug. I planned on writing about sitting on the back porch at 2 a.m. and hearing my neighbors ocean sounds cd. I know it is the cd because at one time I had that very same cd. I am outside, not even close to their bedroom and I can hear their calming cd. I wondered how loud does that have to be for me to hear it like it was broadcast over an intercom system. Then it hit me....they are very old, they more than likely have hearing aids, and the chance of them not wearing their hearing aids in bed are probably high. What a weird thing to think about. I think about those things....I am always asking others "Is it me......" because I am never sure that others see the things I do.

ITS A NEW DAY, ITS A NEW DAY

I wake up some days and just get mad. Mad that I actually woke up. Not the kind where I am too sleepy and want to go back to sleep mad, but the kind where when I wake up I actually lived through another night. That is the depression talking. In reality, I just have a hard time dealing with things. I jump from feeling weak and scared to feeling scared and lonely. I have put myself in a box. I actually have the control over who is in my presence and yet I still find a lonely place. I like being alone but I hate it at the same time.

A pathetic way to start a blog, I know, yet sometimes you just have that feeling. So, I get out of bed and take a shower and everything is alright. Water is the eternal life. I heard a reverend say that and it sticks in my mind. Of course, water, is the analogy. A plant that isn't watered wilts and looks dead but water gives it life. Same with people, although water can be anything that makes you live. To me, though, water is my faith and my family. What a great way to think. Water is the eternal life sounds so wonderful. It happens to be the truest thing I know.

A few years back, I watched from the back seat of my vehicle, a man holding a sign. I think it was one of those road trips in which there didn't happen to be an exact destination. I had someone else drive because I just wanted to sit back and relax. So, the vehicle is full and I see this man up ahead holding the sign. I immediately tried to guess what it would say before we were close enough to read it. Once we pulled up and were stopped at the light which was next to the man I read the sign. "Will not lie, I just want a cold beer". I had to reach into the ice chest and hand him one. Everyone in the vehicle could not believe what I had just done. I gave him that drink because he needed it. It was hot outside, and his only need was a cold beer. I happened to have just what he was asking for and why would I not give him his only wish. I think about it to this day and believe I did the right thing. It's when I hear people say that the homeless are that way because they choose to be. My heart goes out to those who can't get ahead enough to make it in this world. It is then that I feel guilty for being depressed in my situation because it could be a lot worse.

I attend meetings once a month with a group that I call my second family. They are not judgmental and outside of my own family the most loving group of people I have ever met. It is something I look forward to every month, to look at each of their faces, to hug them, to miss them if they are not there, and to share with them everything that is important. How nice is it to have outsiders to be so comfortable with that you can be yourself around. We all need that and we deserve that, but not everyone is lucky enough to have that.

It's a new day, yesterday is gone and a new day is here. I can only live for today. I am not the most reliable person, actually I wouldn't believe me unless you saw me. It's sad to be that way, but for those who know me realize that is how I operate. I can only live today, I can wish for tomorrow but today is all I have. There are many things I want to do, or even plan to do, but depending on today those plans may have to change. At least it's a new day though.

I CAN ONLY DO ME

It has been a few days since I have blogged and the reason is simple, I have had a lot on my mind and I wasn't sure what I was going to address in this blog. Although it is true that I have never lacked for something to say, I find that now I have to limit myself to the types of content I chose to speak about. Does that mean censoring my thoughts? I hope not, and I hope that I am able to give this blog a truth, a substance, and even a bit of humor along the way.

The other day I was asked, "What does eccentric mean?" Without hesitation I answered, "over the top." It was then that I realized that I shouldn't be the one to give the answers. In life, we always think we have ALL the answers. I didn't have a dictionary with me to give the correct response, nor did I have any business just supplying the answer. I realize now that we all have to search. Search for answers, search for understanding, even search for growth. I have a hard time not keeping my mouth closed, and thus it is my bane. How to learn to sit back and just observe is an ongoing process with me.

I'll give you a great example of this lesson: It wasn't too long ago that I was asked to help with something. The what and why is not really important to the story. I immediately, in my mind thought, how ridiculous that is to do. I accepted the challenge and then later I decided there is no way it was going to work. Somehow I had to get myself out of this situation, so I made a call and told this person that the job at hand was an impossible one and that no amount of time would warrant the result they wanted. What I had thought they said was not even close, so the week I had spent trying to accommodate their need was completely unnecessary. I actually hate to admit defeat, but it was staring me in the face like a billboard flashing it's lights. It took fifteen minutes to do the task that I should have done in the first place.

It is a flaw, an unwanted tick on the back for me to sit back and wait. Over the years you would have thought I would learn that simple task but it's like learning it all over again each time. The desire for competition in me is unwarranted. Even my OCD's I have to win. I am not sure when it started or if there was a point in which it started because I always remember the game.

Many people think OCD is like in the movies or on a television show. I wish it were that simple. There is no guidelines to this disease, no rules, no reasoning. It is what makes me take action and not wait though. It would be great, though, if this meant I could accomplish more than I have or will. That just isn't the case with me. My mind has so many ideas, so many equations, everything already worked out in it's own place that to introduce something means I will have to find where it belongs in my head. That is why I have such a hard time just sitting back and waiting. I don't have all the answers, and logically I know this, but somewhere in my mind I have it all worked out except it doesn't make sense to the outside world.

Numbers, how I love numbers. I nearly flunked math though. See? It makes no sense. I see everything in numbers, measure with my eye millimeters to an exact measurement without the aid of any tape measure. Interesting how the mind works. Any discrepancy in something I can pick up and will try to make it work in a pattern. I can't just sit back and wait for things to fall into place. I obsess over the now and it has to work in my mind. There is a feeling that goes along with OCD. I can only describe it to someone without the disease like this: when you are brushing your teeth and you see something in your teeth, you will brush it until that speck is gone. You feel as though you finished the job. Well, in a sense, that is what it is like for us. It is impossible to try to list the different documented rituals that are out there. They are each individual, each personal, each owned by someone.

Now, here's the tricky part. When you see someone who counts their steps do you stare? It's easy to do that, and I am guilty of it as well. I do it to figure out his/her patterns though, not because I'm seeing something odd. I laugh about mine, as does my family when they see me doing it. They ask me while I am doing a ritual if that is what i'm doing and I shake my head yes. They laugh, and when I am through I laugh also. Is it too personal to those with this disease, I can't answer that for everyone. I want to say we love it if you would ask us instead of stare, but that would be my interference with others feelings and I can only answer I don't mind at all. I have to sit back and wait to hear the question. I have to know that not everyone feels at ease about their mental illness as I do. It is and has been a hard thing and it is a daily struggle. I can only do me.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN

I have been asked more than once how this mental illness happened to me. I find it quit odd that someone would think that I caught it or something. I have spent a lifetime trying to keep it hid, so that may be the reason some people think I just came down with it. Sorry, I've had it all my life, severities have differed but it has never left me.

I try hard to be patient, yet sometimes my heart is on my shoulders. I don't think people, in general, think they are hurtful by the things they say. Sometimes, though, things are said out of spite, or misunderstanding. Sometimes it is I, who although I hate to admit wrong, take things personal where there wasn't anything actually directed at me. I usually know when that happens I am starting to sink into a depression and I need to get my medications tweeted a bit. I am lucky that I have signs that alert me of my mental state.

People with depression, often times, refuse to be in company. It is a hard thing to get up and entertain the thought of even conversation. I don't deal with depression much and I am thankful that when my body is headed that way my actions are a big indicator. I've known people who have spent years in a depressed state and refused to get the basic of help. It is a most miserable feeling to be helpless to your own body.

I will describe, in words, how depression affects the body. There is a weight that holds you physically down. It is hard to raise your head off of your pillow. It is hard to feel comfortable anywhere you are. The mind tricks you into thinking you are sick. Not some ordinary sickness either. You start having symptoms of deadly diseases and cannot imagine why no one can find anything wrong with you. You get completely offended if the doctors refer you to a psychologist and so you change doctors.

Depression is also the culprit of extreme laziness. You have no energy to do the smallest of tasks. You can become sleep deprived because you are thinking about your situation and not being able to get out of it. Usually, not always, you feel you would be better off dead than a burden on someone else. The problem with depression though is it is usually brought on by triggers, from what the mental health facilities say. I say there is no scapegoat. You can't blame your depression on anyone or anything other than yourself. I know that sounds harsh to say but if you think about it you realize that it is within your brain chemicals that is making you this way. I realize that anytime you lose something or someone, grief sets in and the way you deal with it is personal but it doesn't mean it was the cause of the depression. Any time you go with little sleep, from worries or being scared, that can affect your brain chemicals and thus depression begins.

I don't want anyone to think I have all of the answers. I am just someone who deals with mental illness and wants those who have questions to ask. If I don't know then I am sure someone else will know. Sometimes it just takes someone to listen and tell you how they deal with things. It took me 37 years to understand what was going on with me. It was not talked about because we didn't know anyone who was suffering and I was not about to let others find out I was flawed.

I guess this blog is about stepping back and finding yourself. Whether that is depression or whatever else is running your life instead of you. Mental health is not for pussies. We are soldiers in a fight that some have no idea the war is going on. It feels like it is time to push through the barriers of this disease and let people know that WE are not weak, we cannot keep silent for the sake of making those around us uncomfortable.

EMAILS FROM THOSE WHO KNOW NOT WHAT THEY SAY

SAY WHAT?

Today I am reaching into my archives of emails I have kept for over a year. These emails are what keep me real and understanding of how the public still feel about someone like me.

SHAWN:

I knew you when we was growing up and all of a sudden you have this mental illnesses. How is it I never saw it?

X:

You did not see it because when I was growing up the main problems I had were anxieties, and OCD. I didn't know what OCD was but I knew I didn't know anyone else with these games in their head. I chose at an early age to hide it at all cost. I didn't trust anyone with knowing because I didn't want to be seen as a freak or an outsider. It took most of my energy to entertain everyone daily to take away from what was really going on inside. Just because there was always a smile on my face and a laugh in my throat didn't always mean I was feeling that way. I wanted to please everyone else. The Bipolar didn't crop up until I was already out of school, so that may have been the reason you were not aware of the mood swings.

SHAWN:

I think that your insistence that there is NO GOD, has led to your illness. God heals those who ask and he also saves those who believe.

X:

Interesting that you would assume I am against God. I do not talk about religion because it is a personal thing. The fact that you think I have not asked God why is absurd. You know what, that was the worse thing I had ever done. Not only did I feel guilt and shame for asking why, but I also felt I was accusing him of making a mistake. There is no one on this earth that can cause me to doubt my faith or my walk. It is true, however, before I was treated I didn't walk on a path that led to good things. It took me a while to come around, but I feel everything happens for a reason. I wasn't meant to have an easy life, I wasn't meant to understand everything. I do know, though, that the God I believe in does not mess up. So, if I were to assume the reason I am not healed is because God made a mistake with me, then I am sinning in the worse way possible. My body does not secrete enough seratonin to keep my brain chemicals balanced. I have a job now, and that is to give those without a voice a chance to be heard. I am NOT nor will I ever be embarrassed of my situation. I will say that when it is time to meet our maker, if you are still worried about God not healing me then by all means, please tell him about his mistakes. I happen to be the type of person who feels I am supposed to be the way I am, I have a crazy ability to tell stories, to make people listen to me. That skill was honed all of those years I had to hide my disease.

BRUTALLY HONEST

TODAY: Sunday, May 16, 2010

Like most days, I find myself bombarded with emails asking me about mental illness. I realize that I realize I am not an authority on the subject but I do know about mine. This new blog will be how I address questions and accusations that I read on a daily basis. I will never disclose the sender but I will speak honestly about whatever issue I am confronted with and feel the need to respond.

I want to start out by saying I will try to show no emotion and as unbiased as possible. Although that is easy to say, it is about me and I know that there will be intimate details I will have to share in order to explain or describe certain things in order for you to understand.

I do not want to start on today's emails because it doesn't give enough insight to what or who I am. I must, however begin with this date because it is what opened my eyes to the need of this personal blog. I decided to date each entry even though the subject may not be about that day.

SHAWN: I know you have written a book about your mental illness, but do you think that you have belittled and objectified the mental health industry and those with mental illness? I find it hard to imagine that you are mentally ill. X

DEAR X: People ask me constantly if I really have mental illness because I don't act like it. I will address all of your questions but I think this one will help explain the other best. I do, in fact, have multiple mental illnesses. I am not quite sure what it is you want me to act like to confirm the statement. I think there are many people who occupy the thought that mental illness is synonymous with mentally challenged. I will assure you I have no impairment in that area. It saddened me to even write that last sentence because it made me feel as though my illness is better than an impairment. I do not mean that in any way. To those on the outside I may seem normal, which is why I take medications daily. I still have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that medication does not even touch. My Bipolar and anxieties are what I am being treated for so that my OCD can be limited or somewhat contained. It was hiding my mental disability for so many years that caused me to finally break down and find out what was wrong with me. I have no secrets now, and a very supportive family and friends. There is not, to my knowledge, a sure fire way to tell if someone has mental illness. I'm not sure what the criteria is to look for in a stranger who says they have it. Because you are not aware of it makes me happy and realize that my medication is indeed working. The second question is very hard to answer. The question as I read it asks if I think my book shows the public that mental illness is not important *belittle*. I have never written or spoken about mental illness as being of little importance. I am not sure if you have read my writings or book but it is far from belittling. The question has two parts to it, so to answer the second part. I am not sure how to answer if I have objectified mental illness. I think we have separate understandings of certain words, so I am going to assume you mean to ask me if I am trying to benefit from mental illness. I did not start out even writing a book, I started out keeping journals about me. It was my mother and therapist who begged me to submit my work. The publication of my journals illustrates my life and the enslavement of my mind for many years. Mental illness is not something to be embarrassed about so I openly talk about it.

Thanks for your email X, and I understand what you were asking me or wanting me to know how you felt about my situation. I can only be me. I do not judge others on their situation and one day maybe others will not judge me on my situation.

The reason I felt like beginning this blog with this particular email is because it happens to be a reoccurring theme, just worded differently. Do I get offended when I am questioned about the reality of my life? I am an open book, there is nothing to hide any longer. I eventually get to all emails and answer them but the majority of them are asking me for something or wanting me to help them get published. I am unable to help in those areas. Not everyone will be as understanding about mental illness as I am, but I will continue to advocate for this cause until it is no longer possible for me to do so.