Madness, Interrupted

"Great things are going to grow out all of this." ~ Anais Nin

After almost a decade of being mired in conditions which now have professional names like major depressive disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, PTSD, and an anxiety condition mixed in just for fun – I feel like I can now speak with a little more perspective and understanding on such things.

Depression (and it's cousin, grief) have been my steadfast teachers these last years.  Strict, uncompromising ones at that. After watching my mom wither away from cancer, after the murders of my sister and cousin, after my close friend's sudden passing – I didn’t think I would make it. My life had reached a tipping point, and I was simply too physically and emotionally exhausted to keep on living. I didn’t understand death, could not comprehend how it was possible to keep on living after such losses, and fell into terrifying depressions as a result.

Now I have knowledge that, at the very minimum, grief and depression won't kill me. At some point, you just have to make that vow. Not everyone wins these internal wars, but once you decide to survive, you learn the importance of fighting back. I’ve struggled past the barely surviving points – the weeks and months spent in bed, the visceral flashbacks, the breakdowns, the self-destructiveness, the intrusive thoughts and panic attacks, the emergency room and psychiatric eval visits.

Somehow, I managed to stay alive. How I did - is another post entirely. The short list includes the support of friendships and family not willing to let me go, writing, books, therapy, medication, spiritualism, support groups, and harsh self-examination.  Along with a seemingly unconscious stubborness to survive – is what has led me toward better days and a better life.

But I’ve made the mistake of thinking that my condition, disorder, diseases – go away. They do not. They must be dealt with mindfully, constantly, and sometimes exhaustively.  This is clearly my lot in life, perhaps due to the same genetic flaws which caused my grandmother to be a paranoid schizophrenic, my mother to have overwhelming obsessive-compulsive traits, along with a handful of addicts, psychotics, and depressives woven throughout my family tree.  Predispostion is likely.  But it’s also tricky.  It’s like a roll of the dice – some people can endure unthinkable tragedies and do not become outstandingly depressed. Some people have severe breakdowns which to the outside world, seem to be brought on for no reason at all.

It’s all very mystifying, though, when you realize that your mind has the ability to unravel.  It’s disconcerting to know that a mind that is strong and creative, can also turn on you; become slippery and unstable. Too often people think it's a weakness, or not being “strong enough,” or something  you can “snap out of.” I congratulate those folks, because it means they have never experienced mental illness or depression first-hand.  I’m not here to convince anyone to change their mind on these matters; but only perhaps to raise some awareness, understanding; and hence, compassion.

This is my madness, interrupted.

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Excerpts, Memoir - 2011