Embracing the Mental

I have a friend who lost their mind. When it happened in my 20s, I was so sad and confused and shocked. What could happen that young to cause one to lose it? Everyone around me was so optimistic about their futures. When I heard what had happened to my friend, it really felt like there was a fallen soldier that both me and our mutual friends were leaving behind. Today, I see the situation and mental illness a whole lot differently. Honey, we are all one missed crazy pill dose or therapy session away from dropping our baskets. 

Throughout my life, there have been commonalities amongst my peers. There were points where everyone was in a bad relationship, or trying to lose weight, or looking for a new job, or moving. At some point, the commonality became that everyone was depressed. I can not pinpoint when this exact time was because no one was talking about it. Everyone was just getting put on meds and getting a shrink in secret. I didn't get let in on what was going on until I myself got depressed and started talking to people about it. I couldn't believe that the people I love the most, the people that I talk to regularly, were secretly navigating their mental health. If I had not told them how I was doing, I am pretty sure the secret would have stayed under their hats. 

It can also go in the opposite direction. The downside about being friends with a lot of scholars is that they tend to academicize (I thought I was making a new word, but it's a real word already) everything they are going through. For some reason, turning everything into a potential Ted Talk makes it easier for them to digest. Your hard time may be worth it if it gets turned into an Oprah's Book Club selection. My brain doesn't work that way. It's much easier for me to acknowledge that my life is in the sh*tter and try to make moves from there, minus the panel discussion. Sometimes I think of how much less pressure it would be for those in my ecosystem to just say, "Yeah, I got down. Maybe even beyond down, and now I am getting back up" without all the extra fluff. 

With this in mind, I see my "fallen" friend differently. They were not a mess or a disappointment; they were brave and a trailblazer. It must have been so hard for them to admit that something was up when life was coming up roses for everyone around them. They had to be afraid that people wouldn't understand. I didn't, but I totally do now. If I could talk to the youngins coming up behind me, I would greet them with open arms at the gates to Crazy Town. I'd let them know they were amongst friends. No more leaving friends behind. 

The Blues

It's very early, but I'm wide awake. I could be using this time to wash or paint my nails, but instead I feel like going outside on the porch to play a harmonica. I'm not sad or depressed, but I do have a bit of the Where is my life going?- I'm tired- I hope I didn't mess things up with a new guy I'm talking to- I'm tired of my vagina- I hope I'm not in perimenopause- Should I give up on my dreams? Blues. I'm trying to remain optimistic, but I am a little exhausted with life. I don't know what is to become of me sometimes. I wasted the first half of my life being a dreamer. Now I'm disappointed and don't know which end is up. I don't feel that my future is bright, and I'm very concerned about where this may leave me as a senior citizen. I hate even the idea of garbage. I'd do a very poor job dumpster diving or collecting cans. I don't see me winning the lottery anytime soon so I need to hustle. But until I figure out a game plan, it's just me and my metaphorical harmonica.