Here’s a confession to the blog world…
LizDoesRealLife is actually LizIsCrazy…
LizIsCrazy is not my new blog name, and its not any new thing I’m trying…its a fact of my life.
They don’t want me to call it crazy, they want me to call it Clinical Depression, Anxiety Disorder, and Insomnia, but crazy is what my loved ones call it, so I’ve taken to calling it that.
Crazy, with a hint of ‘Oh God, THAT is a member of our family lying in the dark room at 2:00 PM because the light makes her want to scream/crying in Wal-Mart/sitting in the car hiding her face with a newspaper while weeping in to said newspaper (and my current job only enables this)/freaking out and yelling and then crying/asking for permission to use cutting knives becaues of long periods of self injury/telling people she hates them and then begging for them to love her/refusing to speak to members of the family/freaking out when she meets new people and instantly assuming they don’t like her…etc.
Don’t pity my family, they say it only really bothers them when I get really bad and can’t stop crying. That doesn’t happen often thankfully.
The reason that I’m writing this blog post at the moment is 1. Its Friday, the end of the month, and I have very little to do today that I didn’t knock out when I got in to work this morning (because the combination of clinical depression/anxiety makes me very productive sometimes) and 2. Many members of my family have stopped speaking to me for one reason or another.
One Reason Or Another
•I’m marrying the man.
•I work at the Nowhere News instead of McDonalds (the reason for this is the Nowhere News is in Nowhere, KY which my family thinks is the lowest of the low as far as scummy towns are. I happen to like Nowhere quite a bit thank you. They wanted me to work at McDonalds so that I can make money to move away from Nowhere. The Nowhere News pays MUUUCH better and doesn’t involve me smelling like french fries)
•I’ve gained weight.
•I am not going straight in to a master’s program, but instead am taking business courses at RCC (you don’t want to know what that stands for) so I can get in to an MBA program.
•My father is my father
•I have a smart mouth and use it to my advantage.
and reason 3. I’m tired of lying and being ashamed of being depressed. There’s nothing shameful about having depression (or so the nice nurse at the dr.’s office tells me), and there’s no reason my family should be shunning me because I’m depressed…and a quick aside here, when I say family I don’t mean Mom, Dad, and Younger Sister, I mean extended family.
I have a cousin who doesn’t function in the same world as us. Every day is a new opportunity for fun as far as she’s concerned. When I moved up to Minnesota at the beginning of this summer we spent a lot of time together. We drove to visit people, we ate burritos, we took long drives and took pictures, we talked music, we discussed social politics, we went to the grocery and tried all the free samples, we painted, we looked at sexy men, we looked through antique stores for treasures, we watched The Bachelor, and we did everything people my age are supposed to do to relax.
Cousin A. is 58, has a son, used to be a social worker, and took up painting as a method of escaping her difficult mother. She’s also clinically depressed, has an anxiety disorder, and is an insomniac.
LizDoesRealLife is twentyplus, no kids (but has a big dog), sells newspaper advertising, and took up writing as a means of escape and release.
Cousin A’s sister (Cousin L) is 60something, has two beautiful children, a wonderful husband, a beautiful, well-decorated house, and the means to take expensive and beautiful vacations. She is also clinically depressed, with an anxiety disorder, and insomnia.
Her husband G. is looked at in the community as a pillar of strength, that shepherds wild Cousin L. through her deranged life and keeps her sane on her good days. People pity G. because he could have had a normal life, but instead married this crazy woman who goes in to town and buys $1200.00 antique stoves from Norway that don’t even work.
I look at G. and see the man.
Its difficult living with people who are depressed, I understand this, and it keeps me from snapping at him when he asks if I’ve taken my medicine (most of the time), and its even more difficult because with this depression and this anxiety comes jealousy, thinking people don’t like me, thinking I impose on people, and all other nasty things. We may make plans only to find out I can’t stop crying because of a dead cat I saw on the road beside the Nowhere News, or we may go out and start having a fun time and I’ll get scared of something and will withdraw.
This is my life, and this will be our life. On May 15, 2010 (yes we have set a date) when we say our vows we might as well include the following:
Me: “I promise to give you fair warning when I’m feeling depressed, and promise not to scream at you when you ask if I’ve taken my medicine. I promise to try my best not to take my bad days out on you, and I promise not to buy $1200.00 antique stoves from Norway that don’t work”
Him: “I promise to snuggle with you at night when you’re feeling sad, no matter how ungodly hot it is. I promise not to nag you about your medicine, and I promise to remind you how much I love you when you have bad days, and to take it for the most part when you do take your bad days out on me. I promise to be there for you when you need me, and only take off on my motorcycle and get the H away from you when you really start to annoy me.”
I am LizDoesRealLife and I am clinically depressed with an anxiety disorder and insomnia (wtf insomnia??? I thought everyone didn’t sleep when they were in college). I am functioning in the real world (sometimes not well) and I am medicated (for how much longer we’ll see). I am, as the kids say these days, letting my freak flag fly.
and I’m not ashamed anymore.