Pleasing All The People

I have a mood disorder, and an anxiety disorder, and probably some less than health self esteem. I take things in, I dwell on them, I roll them around in my brain over and over. It overwhelms me and often makes me feel sad. I play out worse case scenarios in my head, and worry about what I have done wrong. It's like having a home movie of your worst moment set on repeat in you brain. That feeling of disappointing, or hurting, someone I care about aways lingering just below the surface. It eats at me, even little things, little easily forgivable mistakes. I take to heart, because upsetting people is NOT what I do. I make people happy. That is what I have spent my whole life doing, or at least trying to do. My father once told me "You mother and I want to give you some money for Christmas, but I know how you are, so you have to promise not to turn around and use it to buy Christmas gifts for us." Because that's what I do. I give everything I have to try to make people happy, in turn making myself happy, feeling and loved.

Except, it never seems to work. In the end, I am often sucked dry, out of money, love, and energy. Left sad, and unsatisfied. It is said that "You can not please everyone." So after all is said and done, it often turns out, that I am sad and someone in my life is STILL unhappy. Feeling like all my time and energy has gone to waste.

Funny thing about sadness, if you hold on to it for too long it can easily turn into anger and bitterness. Spilling out of me in mean little tidbits, or on occasion, firey explosions where I spew ugly words all over, at top volume, with no filter or restraint. There is nearly immediate guilt, and embarrassment from this loss of control and inablity to censor myself. Leading me back, full circle to feeling like a bad daughter, girlfriend, friend, sister, employee...you name it.  And so the movie begins to play again, only with a new scene added to the end, but never the happy ending that I am continuously working so hard to create.

What is "normal"?

This week, at counseling we spent a lot of time on normal, and what is normal. Is it normal to get upset when people move my things? Is my definition of love normal? Is my relationship with my family normal? Is it normal to feel this angry with my ex husband? What is normal, exactly?

Dictionary.com defines normal as:
normal nor·mal
- adjective 1. of standard type; usual - noun 2. the standard or average - Related Forms un·nor·mal - adjective un·nor·mal·ly - adverb un·nor·mal·ness - noun nor·mal·ize - verb

[nawr-muhl]

Origin: 1520–30; < L normālis made according to a carpenter's square

A standard type, usual, average. When you are talking about behavior, or thought process, it is hard to define what is standard, usual, or average. Many of us know what normal behavior is for us as individuals. As in "I don't normally do that". But how do you define usual for others? So much of what we view as "normal" or "acceptable" is defined by your experiences and individual beliefs. For example, in my family, we have large family gatherings, many of which you are expected to attend unless you live on the other side of the country, or are on deaths door. My friends from smaller, or less close families do not understand the this dynamic, and do not see the urgency to attend these events. Does that mean either of us is abnormal, or wrong? No. We are simple from different backgrounds, with different life styles, different circumstances. Yet, it seems so easy for so many people to define abnormal, or crazy. Worse yet, we (or at least I) all too often, view ourselves (or myself) through the lens of someone else's "normal".  That person maybe a parent, a spouse, a friend, or just an image that we have created in our minds based on what we read, see on TV, in magazines, or online. Allowing yourself to be defined by other's ideas of what is the norm, can make "normal" seem unobtainable.

I have allowed myself to be defined by other people's definitions of abnormal and crazy for so long, that I fine myself constantly wondering what normal is. For as long as I can remember, I have been striving to be "normal" and accepted. Since the first panic attack, since the first therapy session, since the first med, since the first diagnosis of mental illness, I have seen myself as broken. So much so, that I seem to have lost track of what is just me being me, and what is a symptom of a larger problem. I have lost the line between quirk and illness. Constantly evaluating, often rather harshly, my own behaviors, and thoughts, to try to figure out if they are "normal" or if they are distorted. Trying to define, in my own mind, what "normal" is and desperately wanting to achieve it. The strangest, saddest part is, that reading the definition of normal from above, I have no desire to be average, usual, or standard. Perhaps I need to remind myself that the next time I find myself longing to be seen as "normal". I saw a Facebook status once that said "Normal is just a setting on a washer." Dictionary.com says it originated as from the word normalis, meaning made by a carpenter's square. Maybe we should have left it at that.

What's are your feelings on normal verses abnormal, illness verses quirks? I'd love some input.

I'm Fine

Sometimes I feel as though depression is my wicked step-sister. Just as I feel like I am going to get to go to the ball, she rips apart the dress the mice and birds made for me, leaving me ragged an alone again. After over a year of having to "overcome" I had several good weeks. I was finding a new direction in my life, and taking real, and solid steps toward new goals. Then, out of nowhere, crying, and not just teary eyes, sobs, full fledged sobs complete with gasps for air in between.

Why? I'm not sure. My first mistake, was letting myself get too tired. Exhaustion, physical or mental, dangle me right on the edge of a meltdown, even if the rest of my world is all roses and sunshine. All it takes is a hard wind to blow me right over the emotional cliff, landed hard on whatever harsh reality waits below.

Second, I have, as usual, been doing the "I'm fine" game. This is a game I have mastered over the years. Sometimes I play it with friends, other times I play it with myself, but most often its both. I'm fine because I need to be strong for my daughter. I'm fine because I don't want to look like you are getting to me. I'm fine because someone I care about has a bigger problem than I do. I'm fine because I have a job to go to, a child to raise, a dog to take care of, work to get done, and a house and laundry to keep up with. I'm fine because I am telling myself I am fine, and that not being fine is just not an option. I, occasionally, convince myself that its true. I look around and think, "Huh, look at that. I feel ok." Right up until I have 5 minutes of quiet, alone with my thoughts. Suddenly, I get hit by an emotional tidal wave and crumb like wet paper.

So I let myself cry. I sobbed, and sobbed until I could pull it together enough to get out of the house. Then I got in the car, and turned up my "angry" music so load I couldn't hear myself singing along any more, and I let myself get really pissed. Pissed at myself, at the people who have hurt me, and just in general. After that, I spent some time just being me with the person who knows me better than anyone else, and that, again, made me cry. I spent a good part of the next day sleeping, recovering from the emotional exhaustion and trying to make up for lost sleep from earlier in the week. But at last, this magical thing happened. I was fine. Not just in words or fine like I'll be fine eventually, but really fine. And the glass slipper fit.