Bad Crazy Fatty

This is a response to a post at Living Life At 400 Pounds.

I have mental health issues, and just like there are supposed to be "good fatties" (the ones who are TRYING SO HARD to lose weight) and "bad fatties" (those who aren't TRYING SO HARD) there are also "good crazies" (the ones that have an OH SO POSITIVE attitude in spite of their mental illness) and "bad crazies" (the ones who admit to being depressed and angry) 

I guess I fall into the Bad Crazy and Not Particularly Good Fatty category. A lot of the time I feel that being mentally ill is just plain shit, and no, the Magic Medicines don't work to turn me into a Stepford Crazy. Most of them literally make me psychotic, which I normally am not.

I have actually had people say to me that if I "just let Jesus into my life" than my mental illness would be cured. Really. I guess that's why there are no mentally ill Christians. Why didn't I think of it sooner?

OCD and Me

I have OCD comorbid with bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. Most of my OCD symptoms are fairly mild and in my control, but the hoarding aspect (items, not animals) does interfere with my life to a degree. I have trouble throwing things out for fear that I may need them later. It isn't to the extreme degree that one sees on the television program but it does make life more difficult.

I remember noticing symptoms of OCD when I was about 6 years old. I had a system of counting that I relied on to choose my clothes for the day. This is pretty harmless. I still use it when I'm being indecisive. I also get bugged when I'm putting messages on the boards at work and the push pin colors don't match. Not out of control angry or anything, it just distracts me, so if someone has put up a bulletin and the push pins don't match I change them so they do.

The Heartbreak of Borderline Personality Disorder

the one thing I've learned in the years since I found out that I wasn't just "high strung" or "mercurial" is that in spite of having this disease (bipolar disorder) that messes with part of my brain and makes me high strung and mercurial when I don't take Lithium, I am mostly normal (whatever that is) when I do take Lithium. I don't see this as any different conceptually than a diabetic taking insulin.
What is heartbreaking about having borderline personality disorder is the fact that I cannot get too close to people. I tend to be very paranoid and think that everyone is out to hurt me. I can have superficial relationships with people, but not close ones. I realized years ago that I couldn't have romantic relationships and I don't even want one at this point. It was somehow even harsher to realize that I can't even have close platonic friendships because I tend to become distrustful and fuck things up. That is the pain of my particular variety of mental illness--never being able to be close to people.

Parent and Child

A Facebook friend's poem made me think, and this is what I thought.

It makes me think of a bit of my relationship with my son. I have lived with mental illness (bipolar disorder, incorrectly diagnosed until I was 38) and although I tried to be a good mother when he was younger my problems were often overwhelming. I think I'm a good mother now but my troubles put me behind where I should be. We live in a rather marginalized fashion and are trying to both do things to improve our lot in life. My hope is that his kids, should he have them, will not have the kind of chaotic life he did in his childhood. He can talk about it with me and he isn't angry any more, but he says he feels he didn't have much of a childhood, which is heartbreaking. His father (whom I've been divorced from since 1994, but who in some fashion I've often ended up having to take care of in one way or another) has mental problems too and I've always been the more mature parent--which is scary, since for most of my life I didn't feel like a functioning adult!

Wow, that was a rant--hope you don't mind. The poem brought things out.

Mental Illness: The Good Side!

This was a response to an article on Cracked, a 'zine which takes otherwise horrific topics and makes them fun.

This explains a lot about religion, and also convinces me that I should go down in history as amazing. I have OCD, bipolar disorder (which contributes to insane levels of creativity during the hypomanic phase,) borderline personality disorder (works great for acting, which, unfortunately, I haven't been able to do in about 20 years due to my schedule at work,) and panic disorder. Okay, I haven't figured out any benefit to the panic disorder, but the others actually have a positive side. Now start worshiping my mad genius. 

 

I didn't mention this in my comment, but the down side to all of these disorders is that they tend to make me easily distracted from what's really important, so sometimes I have trouble completing tasks, especially if I'm not really interested in them. I'm having a hell of a time with this damn microbiology course, for instance. The subject matter is interesting, but I hate the way the class is set up. I don't do well with hard deadlines. Its stressing me out big time.

Paul Merhige Wanted: Man Accused Of Gunning Down Family, Executing Girl During Thanksgiving Visit

WTF??? I mean, seriously. If you hate your family couldn't you just, oh...avoid them?

Now I realize that this guy obviously has a serious mental illness. But I find it hard to muster compassion for him, although I live with a major mental illness myself (bipolar disorder.) Of course this story needs to be reported, but the other thing that tends to happen when stories like this hit the news is that all people who live with mental illness tend to suffer because the general public tends to see us all as having this seething inner violence and being ready to blow like a volcano at any time. The truth is that most mentally ill individuals are not violent and that if they are going to "blow" they tend to turn it on themselves. A mentally ill individual is far more likely to commit suicide than to kill another person.

That being said, I am having trouble mustering compassion for this guy. I am against the death penalty, but he is making me question my belief right about now. Hells bells...th­ese poor people. I feel so bad for them. Nobody can ever truly recover from such a terrible loss.

Read the Article at HuffingtonPost