I've struggled with depression for a long time. When I had "good" insurance, I took crazy meds and went to therapy to help me stay focused and calm. I've never been suicidal or unable to get out of bed for weeks at a time. My crazy looks different and far less...well crazy. I get pissed very easily, I scream cuss words, I shower less than normal. It's official, my depressive episodes turn me into a pirate. Without all the rum drinking scallywags because when I get this way I don't have real fun with my friends - their quirky personalities, that I usually find endearing, just annoy the hell out of me. I get the mad kind of crazy, not the crazy kind of crazy.
Annoyed seems like a more accurate description than depressed. My kids annoy me...literally the sound of their fun-loving screamy, laughs makes my head spin around. My husband's innocent questions or playful jokes drive me batshit. At times, my neighbors lack of boundaries make me so mad I have a hard time being rational. Even my siblings, who I normally tolerate more than just about anyone in the world, seem flakier than ever. Don't even get me started on people like...my parents, pretty much anyone who has anything to do with the school or school board, irritating coaches, incompetent HR personnel, and creatives who are not creative! Not to mention people who are needy, pushy, loud, quiet, narcissist, sensitive, old, young, conservatives, liberals - I think you get the picture, right? Everyone annoys me. Including and probably worse than anyone else - I annoy myself. All day and all night I beat the crap out of myself for all the annoying things I do or have done or will probably do or will never in a million years do. I think I could forgive anybody for just about anything...as long as it's not me.
About 4 weeks ago I hit rock bottom. The writing was on the wall for the last few years so I wasn't surprised when it finally happened. My tolerance of people and situations had gotten consistently less functional. I haven't taken crazy meds for a long time, seen my therapist in a long time, or contributed financially to my household in a long time. I had little or no motivation to do much of anything productive. I was not taking care of myself, and I wasn't really talking about it either. I was unconsciously hoping that some tectonic plates somewhere would shift and the bottom would drop out. I wouldn't be better, but I wouldn't have to face the madness yet either. No such luck. People die, teeth need braces, pants don't fit, taxes are due, positions get filled, people disappoint, puppies chew, kids scream, husbands joke....and then there it is...life in the limestone.
So I've been doing some rock climbing. Some days are good and some days suck. I'm still not taking crazy meds, seeing my therapist, or chucking money into an IRA, but I'm saying out loud that I struggle with madness. I'm being open with my kids, husband and friends. I am purging. I am writing. I am living in the limestone trying to find my way to higher ground.
