I'm Just as Crazy as You Are... and Here are the Reasons Why
Oh what a tangled web we weave. When first we practice to deceive...
Some of us handle changes with style and grace and some of us handle change with about the same amount of success that we would have handling a greased up live fish straight out of the water.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately because I'm still in "that place." I haven't set up housekeeping here yet so there's still a chance of escape. On the flip side, I haven't dug myself out yet either. Maybe I've just pitched a tent in the backyard of Crazyville.
This has honestly been going on for years. I had a couple of head doctors tell me over the years that I am depressed. I laughed because I couldn't help it. Imagine the stigmata that comes with a diagnosis of mental abnormality that makes a lot of people either feel extremely sorry for you or just tell you to snap out of it. If you knew me 5 years ago and knew that even then, I was "depressed" you probably would have told me to get a second opinion.
There in lies the deception. At the same time, it also unfortunately explains a lot of some of the things that I do. That I have done. That I will still do in the future.
Some of it is just life experience. I'm one of those people that feels like they are holding the greased up fish whenever something changes. When I loose someone close to me. When I discover that something is not what it appeared to be. When disappointment sets in. When something is beyond my control but has a true effect on me that can rock my life to the core. When I don't feel truly safe to the center of my being. When someone intentionally hurts me or makes it blatantly obvious that I'm not as important to them as they led me to believe, or that I should be.
I was on my way out to Reelsville last Monday. That drive is surrounded by some of the most peaceful fields I think I have ever laid eyes on. I love watching how those fields change as the seasons progress throughout the year. Life, growth, death. Watching the changing of a field is like watching a life in fast forward.
The thought then crossed my mind... how wonderful would it be to stop right here. Pull the truck over to the side of the road. Get out. Run into the middle of one of those fields. Take the deepest breath that I could get into my lungs and just scream. Scream out all of the disappointment. The heartbreak. The anger. The regret. The hatred. The frustration. Let. It. Go. No one would hear me and even if they did, everything would be OK because I'd be long gone before anyone showed up.
There is a state of mind that I lovingly refer to as mental meltdown. My ex used to call it "Helena's Time of Year" because for some reason it always seems to be worse about the last week of March. Anyway, I went into a mild form of mental meltdown this past Tuesday. That feeling prompted me to do two things...
I went to the cemetery to talk to Dad and drop off the flowers that I got for him, Grandpa and Grandma. I've said it a million times but I'll say it again. Sometimes I miss them so much that it makes it hard to breathe. The longing becomes easier to live with, but it never truly goes away.
My mind wandered while I was at the cemetery and I remembered something that I hadn't thought of in years. When I was in the 3rd grade, my parents built a house. I loved that house. Red brick, wooded 1 acre lot with a HUGE oak tree in the very back of the yard. There were so many great things about that house and the lot that it sits on and the things that we did when we lived there.
In all honesty, living in that house was the last time that I ever felt safe to the core of my being. Maybe it's because I was part of a great group of kids. Maybe it's because Dad was still healthy there. Maybe it's because it was the last little piece of childhood that I was able to have before all of the BS started.
Stop walking around on eggshells and actually walk tall.