It's Not East Being Cheesy

It's not much easier being mentally ill. Sounds so scary "Mentally ill", and a little dangerous. Not at all glamorous, though, and not terribly interesting. Mostly dull and uncomfortable.  Often terribly self-contained, because no one really wants to hear about it as often as I experience it.

Right now, the depression is in the forefront, and I am trying not to let it win...but boy, oh boy am I tempted not to get up in the morning.  The kids can just eat graham crackers all day, right?

No.  No, they can't.  Get up.

Sigh.

I wish I could say there is a great and noble battle being fought, or relate some heartening tale of how I have triumphed over evil...or at least ennui...but the truth is, I'm just muddling through in a rather uninspiring fashion.  It's boring, really.

Every day, at some point in the day, I just want to give up, to lie down and quietly fade into nothingness.  Every day, I continue on with what I am doing and just endure.  Every day, I could easily just be done, and every day I find something to keep ticking along for.

Paranoia is taking its toll, as well.  Recently, traffic in the cul-de-sac had increased.  People come driving down our road and zip around the circle...and it has me on edge.  I want to go out and stop them, ask them who they are and why they need to come down here.  I imagine telling them "If you don't live here and aren't visiting someone here, you don't need to drive down here, so cut it out before I have to start pelting you with stones or rotten fruit."  It's because my mind is trying to convince me they're looking for a house to rob, or are simply part of the vast and nameless "them" who are watching me for whatever reason "they" are watching me.  This would be the same mind that is utterly convinced that my house is bugged and that same "they" zooming around the cul-de-sac have also put video cameras in all my vents.  I kid you not, there is a part of me that believes this.  Luckily, that part is relegated to a dark corner of my mind where it has to be content with rocking back and forth and sucking its thumb. I'm lucky...I know what's paranoia and what's real...it doesn't make the unreal less...umm...real...in the moment, but I have an anchor to reality that many are missing.  It makes all the difference.

The news is full of cruelty, hatred, and anger, and I don't understand it.  I don't understand why people think it's okay to make special rules for a special few, to give privilege to some and deny it to others.  Basic things, simple human rights.  I don't understand how people can be so horrid to themselves, others, animals, or even the very planet.  How, even in a greed induced tizzy, can ANYONE think that waste and destruction are good for any future generations?  It makes me sad and frustrated...for crying out loud, my brain is broken, people, and I can see we're in a very bad way here on our little rock!

My mind preys on me, and there's not much to be done about it.  I'm one of the lucky ones - my OCD expresses itself in small ways, like how the dishwasher is loaded, how the dishes are put away, and how laundry is done and folded.  I'm not trapped in a cycle of hand washing or door locking or some of the other terrible behavioral tics that make up the illness for others.

It would be so easy to dwell and dwell on what's wrong...but instead, I'm trying to do something right.  Feed someone hungry.  Make a quilt to help raise money for someone who needs it.  Listen when a friend needs to talk.  Plant things...lots of things...big things, little things, edible things, flowering things, beautiful things, ordinary things.  Tickle my kids until their laughter makes the walls ring.  Asking "How can I help?"  All anger does is create more anger.  I'm aiming for some Zen, some peace, some compassion, and some light-heartedness.  Misery I have in spades...I'm working on my store of good stuff right now.