History of Illness

Hi all.

With the dramatic turn of world events, I’m surprised I haven’t completely gone mad. When I go mad, I go all the way. I’m worried that I’m not sleeping but it’s likely because I may already have been laid off. But I don’t know for sure because I never got a text from my boss. So I’ll go in with the full expectation of being let go.

Everyone is hurting. I know a lot of people who weren’t in as good a place financially as I was up to this point (blatantly ignoring my mountains of debt). I’m so scared of what is to come but I also want to help where I can.

Mentally and emotionally, kiddo and I are not well. We weren’t well, to begin with, but the global crisis has made things exponentially worse. If I’m not responding to your snippy political comments on Facebook, it is because I am beyond blaming anyone for this crisis and also, I have far bigger fish to fry. If I block you, it’s because I need to do so to preserve my sanity and/or our friendship in real life.

In the end, when we die, it won’t matter whether we were Democrats or Republicans per se. What will matter, I think, is if we tried to be kind to one another. I’m trying the best I can and hoping that it’s good enough. I’m sending virtual hugs and moral support in lieu of germ-ridden real hugs and monetary support. Because that is currently what I have to give.

Also, hating one another for their sexual identity or the color of their skin or their religion has never been the answer. I don’t know why some of my relatives and friends think it is. I will never understand it. If that makes me a bad person, I guess I’ll see you in Hell. I’m bringing the margaritas.

Oh, holy moly. Lack of sleep is very bad for people with bipolar disorder. It is making me wax philosophical, but if I start sounding delusional, let me know. My Grammarly mood indicator is a little frowny face right now. Instead of saying no s***, Sherlock, I think I will say, no poop, Plato.

My history of mental illness has inadvertently affected my child. However, it also makes me his best advocate. I will still fight for him and his rights, no matter what. If that makes me a looney then put me in a straightjacket right now.

It may be the only thing that prevents me from touching my face.

Speaking of touching your face, I have a history of germophobia because of my OCD. Y’all suddenly becoming hyper-aware of germs was my everyday reality since I was five years old. Welcome to my world. Now, do you understand why I wash my hands fifty times a day on a good day? Uh-huh. I thought so.

Mental illness vindicated! But I digress.

Seriously, take care of your mental health in any way that you can during these times. But don’t visit your much-needed counseling center because, like my son’s counseling center, it is likely closed until further notice.

I have had this song stuck in my head for the last few days. Hair metal fans, rejoice.

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