What "Crazy" Looks Like

One of the definitions of 'crazy' according to the Google dictionary is: brainsick. If I go by that, I am most definitely crazy, and it was confirmed yesterday when I visited the crisis intake area of Banner Thunderbird's Behavioral Health Center. As I walked in, I saw notices on the doors- something about no food being allowed and purses/backpacks being locked up. But there was entirely too much text for me to get it all as I passed, so I didn't read everything. Maybe if I had, my anxiety levels wouldn't have hit the roof. As soon as the door closed behind me, someone asked for my purse and for anything in my pockets. My belongings were placed in a locker to which I did not receive a key. I was given a clipboard and told to sit in the lobby as I filled them out. The lobby had many chairs, a couple of couches, and some of those convertible seats that turn into cots that are often in hospital rooms. Two people were in hospital gowns, sprawled out on the couches with blankets. A couple other people were dressed, but had hospital bands around their wrists and wore pained expressions on their faces. I immediately felt out of place, and the feeling turned to one of near-panic as I noticed the lobby doors had wires in the windows and could be locked to prevent the inhabitants from exiting. Still, I was fairly confident that I could leave whenever I wanted, and that, along with The Learning Channel, which was on the lobby television, calmed me a bit. Now that I think about it, it's a REALLY good thing I didn't know that you can't even access the crisis intake area unless accompanied by a staff member with a badge, because the door is locked. As in, there's no key and only a badge will make the electronic lock open. Yep, that was a good thing. I wa already frightened enough.

In the last couple of months I have had some pretty bad days, and on more than one occasion I've wondered if I didn't need to be hospitalized to get well. So I looked into it, but when I realized I'd go as many as five days without seeing Alex, it ceased being an option. Luckily, Banner Behavioral Health offers an intensive outpatient group therapy that focuses on recognizing and changing self-defeating behaviors (which I believe are gifts of my childhood that I'd like to get rid of now). I'm way beyond the point of thinking that I can do this on my own (in fact, I am starting to panic by how completely unable I am to help myself these days), and my visits to my therapist with George have turned into marital therapy (even if George isn't there), so I figure adding another form of therapy that focuses more on what I need to do to feel better can't hurt.I waited in that lobby-slash-holding-cell for an hour (during which time a lunch was provided, the most exciting of which was the two chocolate chip cookies provided for dessert) before I was called out by a therapist named Melissa with long, blonde hair and equally long electric pink nails. She took me into her office that was labeled an "interview room," and explained that we had half an hour to decide whether the intensive outpatient group therapy program was a good fit for me. We talked about what I like to do in my spare time; I thought it was interesting that most of the time we talked was focused on positive things, rather than the negative things that brought me to her office. She agreed that the outpatient program was a good idea, especialy because if something wasn't done, I'd probably end up an inpatient at the hospital. I had to complete a Safety Plan that stated my stressors, signs that my stressors are getting to me, and three things I would do whenever I felt myself starting to go into "danger zone." Then a doctor had to agree that it was safe to allow me to go home. Oh, and I had to agree to throw out any extra medication lying around and urge George to lock all weapons in his gun safe (there was an incident about two weeks ago that makes guns a VERY bad idea for me). I start group therapy on Monday afternoon and will go three days a week for four weeks, after which time we'll reevaluate to decide if I need individual therapy that focuses more on me, or if I need to continue group, or if I should just continue the marital therapy.

A retraction

The stuff I wrote about feeling better and being stronger? Not true for today. I didn't make it out of bed until 2 p.m., and even then, I really did nothing. Does it get worse than this?

To Do

Something awesome from http://www.mayyoubeblessedmovie.com/420.html, which you should visit if you haven't already!

There's an old story about a group of monks living with their master in a Tibetan monastery. Their lives were disciplined and dedicated, and the atmosphere in which they lived harmonious and peaceful. People from villages far and wide flocked to the monastery to bask in the warmth of such a loving spiritual environment.

Then one day the master departed his earthly form. At first the monks continued on as they had in the past, but after a time, the discipline and devotion that had been hallmarks of their daily routine slackened. The number of villagers coming through the doors each day began to drop, and little by little, the monastery fell into a state of disrepair.

Soon the monks were bickering among themselves, some pointing fingers of blame, others filled with guilt. The energy within the monastery walls crackled with animosity.

Finally, the senior monk could take it no longer. Hearing that a spiritual master lived as a hermit two days walk away, the monk wasted no time in seeking him out. Finding the master in his forest hermitage, the monk told him of the sad state the monastery had fallen into and asked his advice.

The master smiled. "There is one living among you who is the incarnation of God. Because he is being disrespected by those around him, he will not show himself, and the monastery will remain in disrepair." With those words spoken, the master fell silent and would say no more.

All the way back to the monastery, the monk wondered which of his brothers might be the Incarnated One.
"Perhaps it is Brother Jaspar who does our cooking," the monk said aloud. But then a second later thought, "No, it can't be him. He is sloppy and ill tempered and the food he prepares is tasteless."

"Perhaps our gardener, Brother Timor, is the one," he then thought. This consideration, too, was quickly followed by denial. "Of course not" he said aloud. "God is not lazy and would never let weeds take over a lettuce patch the way Brother Timor has."

Finally, after dismissing each and every one of his brothers for this fault or that, the senior monk realized there were none left. Knowing it had to be one of the monks because the master had said it was, he worried over it a bit before a new thought dawned. "Could it be that the Holy One has chosen to display a fault in order to disguise himself?" he wondered. "Of course it could! That must be it!"

Reaching the monastery, he immediately told his brothers what the master had said and all were just as astonished as he had been to learn the Divine was living among them.

Since each knew it was not himself who was God Incarnate, each began to study his brothers carefully, all trying to determine who among them was the Holy One. But all any of them could see were the faults and failings of the others. If God was in their midst, he was doing a fine job of hiding himself. Finding the Incarnated One among such rubble would be difficult, indeed.

After much discussion, it was finally decided that they would all make an effort to be kind and loving toward each another, treating all with the respect and honor one would naturally give to the Incarnated One. If God insisted on remaining hidden, then they had no recourse but to treat each monk as if he were the Holy One.

Each so concentrated on seeing God in the other that soon their hearts filled with such love for one another the chains of negativity that held them bound fell away. As time passed, they began seeing God not just in each other, but in every one and everything. Days were spent in joyful reverence, rejoicing in His Holy Presence. The monastery radiated this joy like a beacon and soon the villagers returned, streaming through the doors as they had before, seeking to be touched by the love and devotion present there.

It was some time later that the senior monk decided to pay the master another visit to thank him for the secret he had revealed.

"Did you discover the identity of the Incarnated One?" the master asked.
"We did," the senior monk replied. "We found him residing in all of us."
The master smiled.

Affirmations

It has been 53 days (I know, because I just counted) since the bottom fell out from under me, and I am still alive. I'm proud of this. It's scary to admit this now, but there were some touch-and-go moments. Thank God for guardian angels and little boys named Alex! I am a fool if I honestly think that all of that is buried and gone- but I can hope that the next 53 days are more about rebuilding the bottom than falling through it.

I'm not sure I can adequately describe where I've been for the last couple of months, but I can say that it has been dark. I'm not entirely out of the dark yet, but at least now I can see light for longer periods of time. I'm happy about that.

When I first realized things were bad (like when I had to go on short term disability instead of going to work), I accumulated a lot of reading material that I thought would help me get through my tough time. I'm just now feeling like I can actually read without being cynical and wanting to track down the authors to bonk them over the heads with my rubber mallet (I don't have a rubber mallet, since George won't allow me to buy one, but I think owning one would enhance my life, since no one has ever suffered death-by-rubber-mallet but I would still benefit from the therapeutic act of bonking someone on the head). I don't suppose anyone who hasn't been depressed can understand how much it DID NOT help me when people (or reading materials) gave me logical reasons why I won't be depressed forever. When I was having a really bad time of things, hearing about how I'll one day feel better only magnified the fact that I didn't feel better right now. I once said to George that I wish I'd had the foresight to document my gloomy periods before, because then I would've understood how I got to the happy pictures I see of myself all over the place. When I don't feel well, seeing my smiling face in records of time past also emphasizes how bad I feel.   When I feel depressed, I am capable of logical thought. I KNOW that there is much in my life to rejoice over and embrace. I just don't FEEL like rejoicing or embracing. And I completely forget that I once endured and overcame- and more importantly, HOW I endured and overcame. I made a big mistake thinking that I could fix myself if I followed the steps in a guidebook- because depression isn't like overcoming an addiction or "getting over" an unpleasant experience. For me, it's about finding a way to survive by remembering HOW to survive. I just re-read what I wrote, and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I have noticed that I'm not able to say what I mean as well as I have been able to in the past- and amusingly, this still doesn't stop me from saying stuff. I may have mentioned the cognitive effects of my depression before- but just in case I haven't, this particular episode has messed with my ability to quickly process and produce information. I finally get why some of my students with processing issues looked at me blankly right after I gave them directions- it takes a minute for the comprehension to happen.

But anyway, now that I do feel a little better, I'm open to these "pep talks." One of the things I've read about that reminds me about what has worked in the past is making affirmations. When I was in junior high, I somehow came across the same idea, and I made lists of things that I liked about myself- things that made me feel strong. I'm sad that I couldn't even begin to think about creating such a list until now, but what matters most is that now I can, so here goes:

I am a survivor. I have survived a lifetime of feeling inadequate, unworthy, and unwanted.  I can do it.
I am resilient. I can "bounce back" when bad things happen to and around me.
I am strong. I can withstand physical and emotional pain and it won't destroy me.
I am worthy of love. I can give it away and I deserve to get it back.
I am smart. I have good ideas, and even when my ideas aren't good, I can learn from my mistakes.
I am funny. I can laugh and help others laugh.
I have a lot to offer this world. I am leaving it better than I found it by raising Alex, teaching others, sharing, and being kind.