I’m beginning to think this mental health business of mine isn’t like a cold, it’s not something that will just go away given time, and there’s certainly not a aisle full of remedies in the local supermarket. Well, unless you count the cake and alcohol aisle, but that’s a risky little path.
No, it’s as much a part of me as is the ever increasing grey hair on my head. Like the grey hairs, I’m not too impressed most days that I have a new feature. In fact, I’m in denial most days. Is it possible to lie to yourself? I think it is. I go about my day like most people, doing the dos, thinking about food, day dreaming about winning the lottery, that I don’t play and being able to live a lazy life of luxury. Standard stuff. So I tell myself, and other’s when they ask.
But I’m lying. There’s another voice in my mind, she’s a bloody horror.
Maybe the reason I think I am getting better, dealing with my mental state is that my thought’s are so frequent that I don’t even notice they are there. Like a perfume that your nose acclimatizes too. Or maybe I’m talking shite as I’m pretty much against a wall with it, I don’t know how best to deal with it so I’m just going to pretend I’m okay. A wise move I know.
The last few weeks, maybe even a month, I’v been fairly happy. No episodes to report (excluding last week). This scares me. I’m hyper aware of my emotions, almost scared when I am happy. What goes up must come down, just how far down is the scary part. I’m only scared as my crazy anxiety, insecure, depressed, what ever the hell these thoughts are, are still there. Everyday. Reminding me to be crazy. To be suspicious. To look for fault. To be jealous. To be shy. To protect myself. To hate on others. To hurt others. To feed these crazy ‘demons’ in my mind that want nothing more than to tear me up, bashing at me everyday, hoping to separate me from friends and, more importantly, David – my family.
I’m told being aware is half the battle, that’s great. But also hugely frustrating. I guess this is how Jess is on a daily basis, when she tries to make the little Peppa toy stand on a lego piece (hard for the best of us). She knows what to do but just can’t quite do it. I know what the problem is. I can feel it in me, I can feel it building day to day. Not everyday. There will be somethings, lets say, playing Mario Kart – this induces rage at the best of times – I can play and lose and be fine, no biggy, no problem. The next day I can lose and I will snap, I’ll get unnecessarily grumpy, I’ll look for a way to take my frustration out of David, essentially I go a little cuckoo. I ask myself, why you crazy? Whats the difference from last week?
The difference is my crazy, that bitch be growing in my mind as I have been letting her play around in the torture box. She’s pulled out a few toys and now they are all on the floor, taking up too much space, too much control. There’s too much out the box for me not to notice, so I see everything that my crazy wants me to see. It really does take over my mind and perception. I can’t see the positives in life. I can’t see how in love I am with David, he’s a different person to me. An outsider that I can’t relate too, it’s very lonely and VERY frustrating.
So I lose my shit, well I lost it twice last week. Grumpy pants makes an appearance, more so than usual. That, I can deal with, she’s an old friend, I know how to appease her. I remove myself from whatever stress it may be, give my mind a good talking too, realise I’m batshit and return once I have calmed down. It’s the other arsehole, that I can’t quite name right now, that bothers me so much. The one constantly telling me I’m no good, David is not ‘mine’, I’d be happier alone – this is the ‘demon’ that needs to pack her shit up and gies peace already! She made me cry, well more of a defeated, done in sobfest kinda cry. I’m so over being crazy. On one side of the ring is the logical calm mind and on the other is a crazy ball of mental, spitting out any and all deep anxieties at the drop of a hat. Dave picks up his phone? He must not want to spend time with me, why would he pick up his phone otherwise? That’s it, I’m so done here. I should probably throw a rude, hurtful remark his way, see how he reacts. If he doesn’t immediately repent and sing me a sonnet then I must be right, he doesn’t find me attractive, he doesn’t love me. Fine. Whatever. He didn’t empty the dishwasher either. He doesn’t care about me at all!!
^^you see that? Thats the PG version, doesn’t do the crazy justice.
Therapy and medication works, I’m understanding and dealing with the mental much better than I ever have. The word I’m using to describe it at the moment is ‘developing’. Getting better doesn’t cut it, there’s too many mental drop down sections and not all of them are ‘getting better’. My mental health is developing, it’s something I’m still learning to understand and deal with. Every time I have a build up and the inevitable breakdown of crazy tears, I expose another piece of the crazy to David. It’s embarrassing and tiring, but such a relief to open up completely. Tell him exactly, often upsetting on both parts, what I am thinking, what I am always thinking. The crazy tends to ease for a while after my mental crying, exposing episodes, like a little bit of the crazy has been chipped away. I honestly don’t know how David deals with me, how he doesn’t get upset or hurt by it. I envy him.
It’s strange how my mind has removed me from my relationship, it has me believing that not only does David not love me, but I am not in love with him. There’s no chance anyone would put up with this level of crazy lady if they weren’t in love! I need to tell my mind that we are in love with a strong, caring and committed relationship, but these mind chats need to come with evidence. I can’t just ‘feel’ it anymore, I need proof. The proof is everywhere – why would I be dragging my ass to therapy and exposing myself if I didn’t love my partner? Likewise, why would he feel empathy, concern and a deep wanting to help me if he wasn’t in love? I mean he’s nice and all, but no one is that nice to hang about with Captain moody who snaps at you for asking if I wanted a cup of tea too many times, then proceed to have a full on melt down the next day! No, there’s more to it than that. Poor guy. Even my therapist tells me he’s great and she’s never met him! I’m one lucky lady to have him by my side.
Let’s just hope that crazy bitch inside me quietens down a bit and lets me feel in love again.