A short break from the list

The list is not quite complete, there are a few other things to point out, but the biggest things are there (Goofball, my dysfunctional-yet-thriving-and-loving family, R's family that we are constantly trying to be good enough for). And yet, the list has nothing to do with the black hole I eluded to in my first post. Yeah, I totally forgot I had promised to blog about that and instead made a list of what effects my life most. A little bit of forgetfulness, a little bit of fear to admit my issues.

Two generations of my family have had medical intervention when it comes to emotional issues. My mom and her little breakdown, CML and depression, cousin SJ was on antidepressants, as was her sister Cousin JM, and I think their mom was too, and Goofball smoked pot his entire life (not something any of us condoned, but there was no reasoning with him on that one, he gave up so much to stay healthy as a diabetic, he guilted us with not being able to eat birthday cake that didn't taste like cardboard). Youngest brother BR could probably use some sort of mood medication, I have suspicions about my other uncle being on/needing antidepressants, too, and I'm fairly certain that at least one of his two children has been on them. Two generations and not one person is safe from issues (all listed are on my mom's side, bio dad unknown so I can't link to any family history that might be there). So it is only inevitable that I suffer the same fate. But I've been putting it off. Mild depression isn't so bad to admit (none ever had suicidal thoughts, one did burn himself, but he is learning how to better cope), a mental breakdown is fully understandable when the reasoning behind it is a flood of repressed memories of sexual abuse by your grandfather when you were 4-6, the escape of marijuanna may not be legal but I can see how it was helpful to him. I don't think that's what I have. I think I'm slightly bipolar.

We'll ignore the manic part, because I don't do anything crazy, I'm just happy in a way that nothing can make me unhappy (ok, so I did sprint through my front yard at 8am in a foot of snow with my slippers on back in November, but it was the first snowfall in my new house and it was beautiful, I had to take a picture). But the other end of it, the depression, it kicks my butt. Again, no "bad" thoughts, I don't feel any sort of urge to hurt myself or others, I make a concious effort to continue everyday life and succeed for the most part. On the outside I just seem tired (at least that's what I'm told), but inside I feel totally empty. Not IF empty, more than that. I feel like my stomach is gone, so I don't really eat, I feel like my heart is gone, so I avoid things/people I love, I feel like my brain is gone, so I don't do anything that requires thought, I feel like my uterus is gone, so no nakie time for R. I don't get dressed, I rarely shower, I cook for R but find some excuse to not eat much myself, the house doesn't get cleaned other than what HAS to be done. R can see it, but he doesn't understand it, so he stands back waiting for me to tell him what to do. I don't know what he should to do fix it, so I just don't tell him anything, which is kind of what I want anyway.

Last week was nothing new to me, I've been through enough black holes to know that I will come out on my own in a week or two (still not completely out, but I'm slowly on my way). I don't know what causes it, and I don't know how to fix it or prevent it. It happens randomly, some years 3 times, some only once. I missed a week of college my senior year, I called my advisor (who is also the head of the program and lead instructor) and told him that if I came to class I would probably have a breakdown or in some other way give them a reason to kick me out of the program. He gave me permission to stay in my room for a week. And I did- no sorority meetings, no class, no labs, none of my clinical shifts. I went to the dining hall once a day, at the very beginning of lunch so there were as few people as possible. I ate french fries or nachos, then went back to my room. The girls in my hall thought I left for the week, they never saw me, I only went out when I knew there were as few people as possible around. And then it passed. I got the notes I had missed, I made up my clinical shifts, I spent time with my sorority, and I finished #2 in my program. No harm, no foul. But I did have to admit how I felt to my advisor (still a close friend, I trust him with my life), which I had never done before, to anyone.

Now I'm admitting it here. Scariest thing I have ever done. I am baring myself like never before. And I know a thing or two about baring myself, I did amateur night at the strip club. This is much scarier. Admitting that some unknown force drags me down and ruins me for a week, that I can't get away from it until it suddenly releases me. Admitting that this time I went without a fight and without a care, that I wanted a week of isolation and letting this black hole take me gave me an excuse. Typing it here was the first time I had admitted that part, even to myself.

Sometimes it feels like the black hole is more indifference to life than depression, I don't care if dinner gets burnt, I don't care if the power goes out because of the storm, I don't care if I haven't brushed my hair in 4 days. And then I got that message from J, and the black hole became a swirling attack of things I can't have, it beat me with unfulfilled desires. Suddenly the black hole was a bad thing, but I hadn't known that when I went into it willingly. I hadn't created the black hole, I just felt the beginning ot its pull and didn't fight against it, I let it take me because this time I wanted to take advantage of it. And my illusion of a comforting black hole was banished by the truth that came out- it's a monster.

I don't know how long it's been there, how long ago I first went into it. It took a while to recognize what it was, so I'm sure there were many times it took me before I saw the truth in it. But now I know, I just don't know how to banish it. Even after seeing the monster for what it truly is, I secretly long to go back into it. Coming out and returning to reality is not the wonderful, cleansing rebirth it should be. I kind of want to go back until it can be, but I know it may never be that way and the longer I stay in the less I am. So out I come, admitting it to the blogosphere. People I meet at the laundry center (at midnight when they are drunk even) know that I'm infertile, people that know the guy that lives across the hall from my brother's friends know that I'm infertile, anybody that sees my pomegranate-colored string and ask know that I'm infertile. Only the blogosphere and R know about my black hole. It's so much harder to own up to.