Understanding that I’m mentally ill helps me not be quite so nuts

The last few days have turned a bit downward as far as the magic of mental illness goes. I had been riding a bit high in the days before, dreaming of going back to work and even fantasizing about the job that would work well with me being a bit nutso.courage

I had spent quite a bit of time carefully pointing out to Ann just how great I was doing in taming my OCD, and was a brand new person, and did she notice, huh, did she notice how laid back I am now? If she didn’t notice, I wanted to make sure that she did.

Of course, repeating it to make sure it was clear made me feel a bit better about the whole thing.

Yep, I’ve obviously still got some work to do there.

But, as we know there is opposition in all things, there certainly is in being bipolar.

More nights of being trapped in pseudo-realities that make daytime a bit confusing. Rationally knowing that I don’t want to break things or hit my head or, even try to be a battering ram through the wall, yet none-the-less having to be constantly vigilant to stop it from happening.tornado of light

It is such an interesting phenomenon watching from my outside, rational self and witnessing the person on the inside who has ridiculous impulses that make absolutely no sense.

It’s a good thing I’m not a scientist, or I think the inconsistency of it all would drive me nuts.

Oh, wait.

Too late, right?

This last little bout of insanity also brought some skipping down memory lane. For some reason, I could clearly remember sitting in our bishop’s office and trying to explain how I felt that I really wanted to put my head through the wall.

But wait, you don’t understand. It’s not that I’m frustrated or discouraged or tired and using the well-known expression “I’m just going to put my head through that wall.”

This is different.

I can really see myself doing it, even though I know that it is wrong.

Can’t you see what I’m trying to say?

Of course he couldn’t. How could he? I wasn’t sure what I myself was trying to say.

It made no sense.

No logical sense.

strengthAnd through this bout of banging and flaring inner rage and fighting to just not crawl in the corner and sob, I realized how much better things had become since that frustrating, crying, and embarrassing experience of pleading for help, but not knowing what help I needed.

Because now I know it doesn’t have to make logical sense anymore.

It just makes mental illness sense.

And that’s okay.

You know, that helps give my outside, rational self the power over the person on the inside who keeps having these ridiculous impulses that make me feel like I’ve lost all touch with reality.

Because, when there is no need to try to make sense of it all, you can actually spend the energy on slowing down that which doesn’t make any sense.

It’s illogically logical.question mark

And it works.

I guess here’s the thought that comes from all this rambling:

If you are mentally ill, understanding and accepting there is a problem is the first step in taking back the lost control in your life.

Don’t try to make sense of it; just work at becoming stronger than the madness that mental illness brings. I now laugh at how stupid it all is and move on.

It’s a lot better than continuing to cry.

If you are trying to support someone who is mentally ill, understanding and accepting there is a problem is the first step in taking back the lost control in your life.

Don’t try to make sense of it; just work at becoming stronger than the pain that mental illness brings. You can even laugh at how ridiculous it all seems and move on.happy group

It’s a lot better than continuing to cry.

I know it is illogically logical, but it really does help to make everything, well, not quite so nuts.

It can become better than it is now – which is the whole goal, right?

Does that make any sense?

It finally does to me.

I hope it will for you too.


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