Lost in Translation

Sunday, October 29, 2006

You know, I do feel badly about my lack of...productivity lately.

I seem to be able to sum up enough energy for one post a week, and while I try to get around to visit you all, I am woefully sucky at that right now. When you do see me, I show up for 25 minutes, read a two week chunk of your blog and then disappear into the ether again.

I have a visit scheduled with Ruth again tomorrow and she has begun to broach a topic with me that I am loathe to get into with her.

In fact, so loathe, I have avoided all of her "suggestions" for this past week, including getting her the number and fax for Sandy so she can get my records from the past five years. Now, does that sound like me?

No, no. Don't answer that. It does, when I am avoiding something I don't want to deal with (much like homework - RIGHT NOW!)

Since I have come to terms with being a person who lives with depression - not as a one time occurance, but as a fact of my life, to be managed and monitered, I have never seen my self as a person with an illness. If anything, my mental illness was so mild, no negligible, as to be practically inconsequential. I mean, I wasn't a hard core mentally ill person. Not a paranoid schizonphrenic, like my uncle. Not a bi-polar, like my biological father. Nope. Just a run of the mill crazy person. Mental Illness Light.

When that first therapist mentioned that he wondered if I could be bi-polar, I was so offended I wanted to punch him in the face. Dude. I know what I have. I am all fun crazy, not crazy crazy. I know crazy crazy, and I am no where NEAR that level.

And then Ruth mentioned it....and I got still. You know the old saying "When you meet more than one asshole in a day, maybe it's you who are the asshole"...
Staring at her across her office, she began to ask me questions about my patterns in activity. My depressions. What follows after. What leads up to it. What are my energy and sleeping patterns.

At first, I insisted that I KNOW my signs of depression. And the feeling that I was having, the slightly numb feeling was like depression, but wasn't depression. Because I KNOW my signs. Then, she started down the list.

My sleeping for hours during the day.

Well, all right - but that doesn't mean anything. I'm just tired cause I haven't been sleeping at night. What? Do I normally have problems sleeping at night. No, Never...unless I am in a depression.

Craving carbs/sugar?

Nope. I can assure you that I am not craving sugar. Before I used to sneak to the store before I drove home and buy chocolate croissants or doughnuts and eat them in teh car. I was almost complusive about it - then would stop to throw away the bag so Terrance wouldn't know. Now - No. No sugar cravings...unless you count the hits of maple syrup I have been sneaking from the cupboard. A lot of maple syrup. I guess that IS sugar. Pure.

But I am telling you Ruth - This isn't depression. I know what it feels like. This isn't it.

Do I get impulsive?

Well....maybe a little. Shopping? Even when I know we don't have the money? Not so much right now, but yes - in the past that was a real problem. (See my confession regarding the $600 Hannah Andersson DAY). And are some of the behaviors I am currently exhibiting showing some impulsivity? Maybe. Well, I guess so.

Do I have an uncommonly hard time if my routinue is disturbed?

Next Question.

Do I have bursts of energy in which I produce an amazing amount of work?

Yes. Why, yes I do. In fact, all of the internet has commented on my productivity. The quilts. The rugs. The writing. The PhD. The,well, everything.

Did I know that children of bi-polars are more likely to develop this?

Wait. Are you suggesting, Ruth, that I may be hard core crazy? Holy fucking shit. Did you just mention lithium? Are you suggesting that my depression may not be depression or as I like to think of it "Mental illness light"? You know, the normal crazy. Are you suggesting that I am moving into the cul de sac of the big boys of crazy? Cause you, Ruth, are full of shit. And I will not tolerate this implication that I am not regular depressive. I will not think that I may be manic-depressive. And while I am prefectly happy to eat a combination of Prozac and Wellbutrin , and any other anti-depressant you want to throw down my gullet, I am not taking anti-psychotics. Mood Stablizer, my ass. I don't want to talk about this. I don't want you to talk with Sandy about this. I don't want to talk to the Psychiatrist in charge of my medications about this.


and then I go home. I read the literature on bi-polar. I start to see patterns in my behaviors. My life time behaviors. I don't want to tell Terrance, cause how is it fair that he gets stuck with the shitty wife and mother who ends up being certifiably crazy? How much can the man be expected to cope with in a spouse? When do I become too damaged? Have I passed that point?

And Emily? Good fucking god.

And I'm sorry. I'm just sorry. Sorry to Emily for not being a regular mom. Sorry to Terrance for not being a regular wife. Sorry to you all for not being witty and funny and all the things I want to be for you. I'm sorry for my restlessness and my dis-satisfaction with a very good life. I'm sorry for maybe being crazier than I wanted to admit, and being afraid to think about it. I should be braver. I should be able to just deal with these things and let them slide off of me. I am the truth speaker. I am the brave one. But not now. And I hate it. I hate feeling this way and I hate that it sounds like I am looking for sympathy. Because I am not.

I'm just a little lost right now. And I wanted you to know.
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