Underground Fight Club

WARNING! Extra-long, incessant rambling alert!

 Good morning…and welcome to the super-secret, dark “inner-belly” of “Underground Fight Club!” The first rule of Underground Fight Club is…no one wants to be here! No, wait…that’s not right…(It’s not right, but it’s true!) (Oh, and it’s the inner-belly ‘cause this shit happens INSIDE your head!) This is the world of the Secret Mental Illness!

 (Lies back on couch and squirms around to get all comfy.) “Well, Doc…it all started when I was in 8^th grade. Well, it probably started way earlier, but it was first NOTICED by one of you guys when I was in 8th grade…”

 “Ummm…Mrs. Dean? If you’re sleepy we can do this another day. After all, the sofa is for sitting on. And can you PLEASE remove your shoes from my Tuscan Leather cushions?”

 “Huh?”

 The first time someone actually told me I was “off” was during a two week hospitalization my 8^th grade year. I was having “laughing attacks” (think 45 minutes of hysterical, uncontrollable, PAINFUL laughter for no apparent reason…gets kinda creepy!) and Doc was worried it was a rare form of Epilepsy. (Seriously…it really does exist! I looked it up…) Turns out it was a bizarre manifestation of anxiety attack.

 During all the fun and games of my two week stay, I was given my first (of many) Psychological Profile test. I failed. Actually, his words to me were, “If sanity is a highway, you’re driving a little left of center. But you’re functional.” (COOL! I’m functional. Yay me!)

 Much therapy ensued.

 My Sophomore year of High School I spent a few months in an inpatient facility…(It seemed like a good idea at the time…) That was the Doc that slapped me with the Borderline Personality Disorder label. (Although, she never did explain what the hell that one meant.)

 More therapy ensued.

 After many years of alternating between fighting things on my own and attempting more therapy, I’d collected a flippin’ bag full of “Depression” and “Anxiety” diagnosis. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with my last kid that an awesome Doc noticed there were days I’d come in and be bouncing off the walls, out of my head with giddiness. Enter the Bipolar Disorder diagnosis!

 Suddenly, all the pieces fit…and my wild mood swings made a bit more sense. (Then the fight REALLY began!)

 I am not severe in my glitches. Meaning, TECHNICALLY I “hear” voices occasionally…but I KNOW the “voices” are just me trying to kick my own ass. They NEVER tell me to do horrible, evil things…they generally tend to stick to telling me what a looser I am and then illustrating this point by bringing up all kinds of “for instances” from my life.

 I have some SERIOUS impulse control issues…meaning the cut-off switch between my brain and my mouth doesn’t work most of the time and I tend to buy things first, consider if it’s a good idea or bad idea later. (But I AM getting better at both of these things!) I also frequently battle with the difference between thinking about doing something and actually NOT doing it…

 Probably because I’m aware I’ve got a 90% chance of making a total ass of myself, I tend to get REALLY uncomfortable around groups of people…(OK, it’s more of a border-line panic than uncomfortable.)

 I’m a rapid cycler, meaning my moods change more than 10 teenage Cheerleaders with PMS, all rolled into one! I’m just as likely to tantrum like a two year old as I am to skip and laugh…like a two year old. (I keep telling you guys I edit out the "crazy" and "bitchy" before I post!)

 And I have made the choice not to medicate. Which is where the Underground Fight Club comes in…because every day (some more so than others) is an internal fight to maintain my “balance” and not let the glitches run away with me.

 Over the years I have met a handful of other members of Underground Fight Club. Perhaps we recognize the more-than-ups or the more-than-downs in each other. One former-soul-bro noticed certain scars I half-ass attempted to cover and “outed” himself by sharing his scars..and the stories behind them.

 One of my dearest friends is a Member in good standing. I commented one day how he reminded me of two bears fighting each other…the cute, fun-loving bear cub and the raging mother awoken from hibernation.  That was when we discovered our common ground.

 My point (yeah, I think I had one when I started) was NOT to convince people NOT to take meds. HELL NO! There are many times I question my choices and many late-night conversations with hubby about “should I or shouldn’t I.” But my past forays into that side of life have not gone well for me. I’ve been thrown into fugue states, bottomed out, and lost my ability to tell reality from the disease.

 My greatest most awesome therapy is writing! (You’d be surprised how much does NOT make it onto this thing!) Words make sense to me, plus I made a deal with myself that I’ve never broken…I write only truth! (Even when the truth isn’t pretty…)

 I do my best every day to funnel all the more-often-than-not chaotic energy into helping others and trying to find the best ways to love and laugh at life!

 And those nasty, little internal voices that LIE? You will rarely find me without music somewhere close by. The music can drown out even the loudest mornings, if I just focus on the lyrics, notes, melodies, interplay of instruments…

 In all brutal honesty, I am NOT comfortable writing about these things. It does NOT make Chris a happy chick to share her inner struggles. I do NOT view my continued day-to-day existence as a badge of courage. But…this is the reality for more people than most of us know. (You’d probably be shocked-shirtless if you knew how many familar names battle depression and bipolar disorder!)

 But folks, here’s the thing you need to remember about mental illness. We are not something to be feared, locked in the attic, or pushed to the fringes of society. We are people with unique stories and struggles, just like you! All we require is understanding and occasionally a little extra help. And if a bit of emotional discomfort on my part helps someone to ask for the help they need or reach out to friends and family for support…Heck yeah, I’m in!

 May your day be filled with both eyes-open to the struggles of those around you and the compassion to reach out to those in need of your help! And, of course, laughter. LOTS of laughter!