Yesterday, I had an odd conversation with my med provider. As usual, I was giving the state of the state address, describing my current symptoms as best I could (I really do suck at that conversation), yada yada. Suddenly, he said "So your main complaint is…." And I realized, it’s not exactly a complaint.
Life sucks right now. Ever since I’ve been put on Welbutrin, I’ve been waking up emotionally from the complete dead zone I’d retreated to in desperation for the past year and a half. Sounds like a good thing, right? Well, it is, but it’s painful as hell. There’s a reason (or fifty) why I needed that isolation, and now those emotions are front and center. I added a minimal dose of lexapro to help with that and the anxiety about a month ago. Yesterday, he offered to increase it, to help eliminate the emotional pain.
I turned him down.
I’m realizing that I don’t want a fucking bandaid. Nor do I want to be artificially functional, like an automaton walking and talking but separated from my humanity. A pane of glass between me and myself is not welcome, thankyou very much (thankyou to david webber). I don’t care if who I am is trying to destroy me, I’ll fight the damn fight and win or lose as I may.
So what is it I do want? The first time around, I just wanted to be put back on my feet, all pistons firing so I could get on with it. I don’t think I knew what it was, but I knew I just wanted my body and mind back so I could go on pretending to be human. The second time around was a unique episode, I can’t even begin to describe the violence of the experience. Only two things were important: teeth gritting survival, and crawling my way through fulfilling my responsibilities so that my life would still be there when it was over.
This time around, I’m unwilling to settle. Functional is not equal to healthy. The trappings of life are not actual living. The antithesis of depression is not happiness. So what is a cure? What’s the frakking goal? I think it has to do with being present for living. The real living, which involves dealing with complicated people, facing ups and downs with equal enthusiasm, and having a belief that your right to be is the same as any other idiot’s on the planet. Striving to create yourself into your dream, forgiving yourself for stumbling on the way. Not being at war with who you are. Searching for meaning while acknowledging that meaning is a concept that only exists in our own minds. Admitting that we exist, like it or not. The world is what it is, like it or not.
Clear? No. Just the breadcrumbs I’ve been finding on the way. Someday, I’ll be smart enough to understand what 80 percent of the planet seems to be born with an innate knowledge of. I’m not going to accept anything less this time around. So yeah, let me keep my pain. I’ll never get life until I understand my demons.
Ok, adding song lyrics is a cheesy thing to do, but just before I posted this, the song came to mind and I couldn’t resist. She says it a hell of a lot better than I can:
but now I’m on my way
I’m on my way to real
and I’m putting it back together
like a busted plastic plane
I need a lot of glue and I’ve got a lot of pain
and I’m sorry if that scares you
sorry that you’re stuck
and I’m sorry that I lied to you
when I said that I would never give you up