Certifiable Crazy

I often times use the expression, "I'm certifiable crazy" or I have a legit certificate showing how insane I truly am.  There have been times in my life when I just checked out, could not deal with any more shit, lost the will to live.  Each time I would go to that dark place it seemed harder and harder to come back.  To me it is amazing how your body will do what is necessary to protect itself, or at least your mind does. 
The first time I felt like something was amiss, I was maybe in the 7th grade.  Walking home from school I would some times stop at one or more of the shops there on Lynn Garden Drive.  Like the News Stand for the newest Archie comics, or at McConnell's Grocery to get a half frozen Pepsi, Suger N Spice Bakery for a sweet or the drug store just to browse. Back then the store keepers did not mind you browsing, today I'm sure it would make the store keepers nervous.  This particular day, I was there in the drug store with my cousins Sue and Janice Jessee, we would walk home from school most days together talking and laughing about what had happened at school that day.  I remember standing looking at some greeting cards and before I knew what was happening I had wet my self.  It was really hard to hid it, both pants legs were wet and even my shoes.  I was horrified by what had just happened.  Trust me when I say that it was a very long time before Sue and Janice ever let me forget that!  As if I could.  I walked the rest of the way home in shame, what was wrong with me?  When I got home Momma had also just gotten home from her day at school, I don't remember if she noticed my clothes being wet or if she discovered it later and ask me about it.  I just know that the next day, Dad took me to the doctor.  Ok, how much more humiliating could this get???  When Dr. Brown ask me what had happened I told him of the experience thru tears, he patted my hand and told me that he was going to get Dad.  When they returned to the room Dr. Brown told Dad that I had what was called post traumatic syndrome, what we now call PTSD.  I remember them talking about it a bit more and then we left and went home.  Later that night when Momma and Dad were talking about my doctors visit, I ask Momma what did it mean and she said she did not know.  I remembered a man in our church who always took up the offerings and his head would shake all the time and I had ask Momma what was wrong with him.  She said that he came back from the war like that, that he had seen some very "traumatic" things over there.  So I ask her if I had the same thing as the man at church, "oh no" she told me, what I had some something different.  I heard Dad tell Momma that Dr. Brown said I was a very nervous child and that things affect me differently.  I can still hear Momma saying, "What has she got to be nervous about".  This happened to me several more times over the years but we never discussed it again at home.
Then when I was 19 I started to think about suicide.  I thought of so many ways to do it, who would find me, make it look like an accident?  I remember thinking I did not want to go the way Marilyn Monroe had, with booze and pills, hell I did not even drink!  Then when I found out I was pregnant my thoughts of suicide kicked up a notch or two.
I was about 27 when I went to see my GYN doctor and told him how I was feeling and things I thought, he told me that I needed to see someone and hopefully they could help me with my life.  He sent me to Dr. Lee Solomon, which started years of therapy and so much medication, I can't remember all that he put me on.  I remember the day he told me that I had what was known as manic-depressive, I would have extreme highs and then very low lows.  With some meds, some talk therapy and time he would be able to help me. Oh and did I mention money, yes some money as well.  Ain't nothing in life free even talk!
I started out going to talk therapy with Dr. William Lefton, 5 times a week, and each week I would see Dr. Solomon so he could ask about the meds I was taking and the side effects.  This became my life for such a long time.  Until one day, they decided that I needed to be put into a hospital for "people like me"!  I remember Richard driving me there, walking into the lobby and being lead down a hall to this room with two twin beds and a table between.  A nurse and two men came in with me, while the nurse frisk me, the men went thru my suit case and removed several things that I could not have in my room.  I don't remember being scared altho I know I had to be, but I was on lithium as well as several other meds so I was very cloudy.  I was then taken to met some of the other patients and get to know the lay of the land. 
This place was trying so hard to be like "home" but trust me when I say it was a far cry from home.  You could hear crying all the time, day or night. We had one guy who loved to come out after dinner at night with nothing on but a rain coat, he would run into the room stand in front of the tv and flash everyone.  At first it was a shock, but then you just got use to it, as strange as that sounds!  There was group therapy, talk therapy, grief therapy, there were social workers, psychiatrist, psychotherapist, & psychologist.  I was moved from one office to another one just to see each and talk, talk, talk.
They took away my music, my needle work, my books, if I took a bath, I had to have some one in the room with me at all times with no shower curtain.  There were bars on the windows and the doors, which were locked at all times.  One day while lunch was being served, one of the patients got out of the dinning room, got out the door and went over the fence, the alarms went off and if you had never heard them it was unreal! It turned into a zoo, patients on the floor, some clapping and cheering, some crying, others were so drugged up they did not know anything had happened.
The only person I wanted to visit me during my stay was Richard, I did not want my children to see me here nor Momma or Kaye.  On one occasion Richard brought me a gift, a bottle of Calvin Klein's Obsession cologne! When I opened it I could not stop laughing, I found it a bit ironic to be in a mental hospital and he gets me obsession!  Which they took from me very quickly!  Glass might break the bottle and cut my wrist.
I remember I wrote to Amy just about every day, I don't know why unless I felt like she more than anyone would understand the pain, the confusion, the hurt and despair.  The feeling of total hopelessness and such a loss of self.  When you see no light at the end of the tunnel, you feel so lost. I use to refer to this thing as a wolf in pursuit, nipping at my ankles, and there are times when he gets just too close and I can't run any more.
According to my doctors I suffered three breakdowns during this time, they felt it came from the emotional, physical and psychological abuse from Richard. Dr. Lefton would advise me weekly to get a divorce, that Richard was the source of most of my pain.  And I would tell him each and every time, divorce was not a option for me, was against my religion.  He would then say so is suicide, in which I would agree. 
It is amazing how the mind works, and after all that me and my mind have gone thru I still suffer from being bi-polar, take meds each and every day.  I understand this thing that I have control over these days, I know when I'm having a high and can feel the low coming on.  But I have them, they do not have me.  I do have times when that wolf gets a bit too close for comfort, when the thoughts of ending my life seems sweet not selfish, when I just don't have the will to go on, but they are few and far between.  I realize now that everyday can't be a walk in the park, but it's not hell on earth either. Not like it use to be.
I have had one constant in my life thru this journey and that has been my sister Kaye.  She has been there for me each and every step of the way.  She never said no to me, she has spent hours upon hours listening to me talk, bless her heart, I know she has been a life line for me my entire life and I have a love for her like no other.
I do believe that mental illness runs in families, just like heart problems, cancer, being an alcoholic.  In one therapy group I was a member, we were to trace back in our family, members who had suffered from this as well, yeah, our family has some nuts in it I found out.  Not naming names, you know who you are! LOL
I'll end this in saying, "I'm not crazy, I'm certifiable"!