Strings

I just finished folding my laundry. As I folded my PJ’s and hung up my hoodies it hit me. It hit me right in the face, just one more thing that makes me abnormal. Strings. As I put away my favorite sweats and pajamas, I realized that none of them had stings. Not a single item I folded had strings. Normal people’s sweats and hoodies have strings in them, but not mine. Mine have been to places that the average individual hasn’t. Mine have traveled alongside of me for years now, and slowly but surely they all had the misfortune of having their stings removed.

You see, when you go to a psychiatric hospital they take all your strings. You have two options: you don’t get to keep the item, or you can give the staff permission to remove the stings. I always give them permission. I like my sweats, pajamas and hoodies and as I sat in that chair the first go around, I realized that I wanted the items more than I cared whether or not they had stings. So I always sit there and watch them pull the string out, or cut them out if they are sewn in.

This last go around the nurse that was checking my items in kept commenting about the lack or strings. I looked at her and told her that most of the strings have been already removed through the years of having to go into the hospital.

Some of you might be thinking about your shoes. What do you do about your sneakers? The answer is that they take those two. If you can’t get someone to bring you shoes without laces, then they can give you some plastic ties to put on them, to keep them on your feet.

But tonight as I folded my laundry, I experienced another moment that repeated the ever-playing song in my head: “you’re not normal, and you never will be.”

So tonight I write to you from a sad place. A place where sometimes my heart aches. A place that remind me that I’m 25 and not self-sufficient. A place that hurts not only me, but my family. Because they want me to be a self-sufficient adult. They want me to be able to take care of myself in the way that some other 25 year old would be able to.

I miss the days before October of 2009. I miss those days of carefreeness. I didn’t know that those days would come to an end. I didn’t know that as I entered into my 20’s my life was about to change radically. Because it sneaks up on you, mental illness that is. For me it was a down day, followed by another down day and then another and another until it turned into January of 2010. Then all of a sudden it was a great day, a day of magical thinking...where the thoughts never quit coming, the energy was endless, the laughter ran deep. I thought that maybe the down days were over. And so did everyone else. My friends had been concerned, but then I was so happy and so energetic…I slept little and excelled at all my endeavors. And after about 4 days…4 beautiful days, the sadness was back, and with a vengeance.

Then there was suicidal ideation, followed by a terrifying first experience with a psychiatric hospital, followed by the end of my days as a student at Emmanuel College. And so began a life of mental illness. Fast forward about 4 years and I’m still not use to it. I long for those days where I didn’t have to constantly analyze myself. There is no “it’s such a great day and I feel so wonderful,” what is there is “Am I too happy? Am I too sad? Am I sleeping too much? Too little? Did I remember my meds?" There are side effects and drugs to counter side effects and there are drug reactions that have to be monitored and blood levels that have to be checked and I am reminded every morning and night as I swallow that handful of pills that I’m not normal.

But would I trade the strength and knowledge I have gained for a normal life? The answer will always be a solid “No!” Because I have entered a community of people who are hurting so very much. And I know that I can understand their pain in ways that no one else can…because I’ve been there…because sometimes I’m still there. My dreams have been altered...but I still dream…I haven’t lost the ability to dream. And I have hope for my future, but I know it’s not the future I once dreamed of and that is hard to accept sometimes. It’s really hard when I know I’m letting people down. When I know that my family hurts too because of what I’m going through. When I realize that I can’t be the person they so want me to be…it burns me alive. But I won’t quit trying.

Today I picked out knew glasses. I paid a doctor’s bill. I went to my psychiatrist. I dropped off some prescriptions. I got accepted in graduate school at Montreat College and offered a six month federal contract position doing more telephone interviewing. So it was a good day. I talked with my doctor about the fact that my hands are shaking from a side effect so bad that I am now struggling with making involuntary jerks with my hands and I’m sleeping too much. So we altered some things, and I go back in a week to see if there is any improvement.

So I folded my laundry tonight and mourned the life I might have had if it weren’t for mental illness. But I wouldn’t trade it. I know to some of you that this sounds insane but I honestly think that something really beautiful will come from this pain. I’m just waiting for it…waiting and folding laundry.

Love, Randi