I was going to film a video for YouTube today, talking about the things I’m going to end up typing here, but it’s 10:04 and I’m in a bathrobe. So, here we are. Me writing, you reading. Life as it should be.
My performance at the whole blog thing seems to have sucked for about two weeks now. I’ve missed a few deadlines. I’m not apologizing. Statement of fact is statement of fact. I’ve missed a couple of my self-imposed deadlines (I know how disappointed you’ve been). But I did think it high time we had an honest sit down and discuss things, very one-sidedly.
December 23, 2016, I found myself in the Urgent Care Clinic twice, once midmorning, once in the very late evening. After a traumatic year of miscarriages, death, family illness and injury; a mental illness that I had been battling mostly on my own for over a decade came to a head. I broke. I broke hard.
The nervous breakdown built up over the course of a week. Depression and anxiety set in. And it was at this point that I really started to want to die; even to feel like I deserved to die. I begged my husband to take me to UC. He asked me what they could do. I answered that they could commit me. But in my head, I was telling myself that they should kill me. I didn’t deserve to live. I thought that many times through the night. I felt dangerous, crazy, evil, and was clearly unstable.
I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Just not in the way that Hollywood portrays it. I do not wash my hands compulsively, my house is a disaster most days, I do not have a visible compulsion that you would readily recognize and say, “That chick has OCD.” I battle my demons in my mind. The form of OCD I suffer from is called Pure O. Cracked.com actually has a really good article about it that I recommend. Mostly because the details are still very painful and anxiety inducing to share, and I don’t want to.
Memorial Day weekend I went on a trip with my family. I forgot to pack my medication, and as a result, did not take it for three days. I was fortunate enough that this did not make me unstable, but I did spike in my, up till then, very well managed by medication and therapy, OCD anxiety symptoms. I also started a new job this week, so there’s a big change in my life. I’m still not feeling 100% (Like, 99%) myself yet (To people that take medication for mental illness, I do not recommend forgetting to take it for any length of time).
That’s where we are. That’s why I’m not sorry I’ve missed deadlines. There are nights when I have to make the choice to go to sleep and recover, or the next day gets out of hand. And I gotta tell you, spiraling is the worst hell that I can imagine. It’s the thing I am most afraid of writing about and describing in an honest way.
I love writing. I love blogging. But if there’s a night where I can’t transfer the thoughts in my journal onto the internet, it’s just not happening.
That being said, I have written about half a dozen poems in the last few days, expanded on The Convention, and wrote a dirty little song that I won’t be posting up here. So, I haven’t stopped writing. And next week will be better, and so will the next week after that. I hope you’ll keep taking this journey with me. I’ve loved seeing the outpouring of support, I cannot adequately express my gratitude that you all take the time out of your day to read my words and interact with me. It is the sweet balm to my heart that I live for.
I love you all,