Call me crazy
We’ve all seen the headlines: “More adults seeking treatment for depression”, “Rise in autism and ADHD diagnosis”, “ERs flooded with psychiatric cases”. So, what does all of that mean? Are more people suffering or are we getting better at diagnosing? Did too many people get participation trophies and just can’t handle the real world? Did moms eat too many steaks loaded with hormones when they were pregnant? Are kids just spoiled, disrespectful, brats using diagnosis’ as excuses? What is going on?!?!
What if, in actuality, we’re all just being different variations of human, and nothing is inherently wrong with us? I don’t mean that we aren’t feeling like shit, I mean that we aren’t defective as people. I have obviously not done any case studies on everyone, but I don’t think I’m mentally ill anymore. Not that I’ve healed it all, but maybe I never had it in the first place. Now, every feeling I’ve had has been real. And, the ways I’ve acted might not have been calm or rational. But, I don’t think it means I’m disordered.
For example: after Ian got hurt, I was experiencing major depressive episodes, where I was completely out of commission for 3-5 days. Wishing I was dead, thinking I was the worst person on the planet, not eating, sleeping the whole time, missing work, and not taking care of my kids. I was “sick”. This would happen every few months or so. (Hence, my diagnosis of major depressive disorder). During this time in my life, I was teaching my intense lil loves, Ian had a minimum of 3 appointments a week, there were tons of hospital stays, and I had other kids (or was pregnant). I wasn’t having a mental health episode, I was exhausted and eventually just completely shut down-I just stopped functioning. And do you know why I probably wanted to kill myself? Because of how drilled into my head it is that I should’ve been doing it all perfectly. We’re women, we can do it all!!! You can rest when your dead!!! Teachers (and moms!) are super heroes! So, when I was tired and couldn’t do it all, I was a failure. I hated myself for being overwhelmed. But, in our society, we don’t alleviate burdens, we prescribe medications. I had severe post partum depression. Maybe it’s because we aren’t supposed to be alone or working right after our babies are born. We’re supposed to be surrounded by other women who have been mothers, to nurture and support us-not separated from our babies sitting alone at work. I went on a four month bender after Ian got hurt. My life just got shattered, I wasn’t mentally ill. I was just a person trying to make sense of my life.
My last residential stay was not at all what you think of when you think of psychiatric care. We hung out on the water, smoking cigarettes, went to the beach, watched movies. We obviously got treatment, but I just got to rest. I got to be sad. Me, and everyone else there, just got to be. And we all just accepted each other. Still seeing those weird black creatures chasing you? It’s ok girl-I’m here, you’re safe. Did some shady shit selling fentanyl? Hey, you’re not anymore-you’re doing the right thing now. Afraid you’re going to black out and kill your self and everyone you love? (That’s me-that’s my crazy). Those intrusive thoughts represent the thing that scares you the most. You’re good tonight, let’s go watch tv. We’re all ok. Life has been hard. We got each other.
We’re in a system of suffering, and we feel crazy because we aren’t meant to live like this. We eat food that isn’t really food. We watch tv that perpetuates all kinds of lies about what it’s like to be a person. We can’t sleep when we’re tired. We can’t cry when we’re sad. We aren’t mentally ill-we’re just being different variations of people. Trust me when I say though-it has taken me A LOT of therapy to figure this one out!