So I am going to give this blog a try.. which is not the most confident way to start this. I used Xanga for years, and when it died I kept trying and failing at a site to use instead. I definitely found myself missing this.

I will start with explaining my choice of titles.. this actually is something that goes through my head from time to time. I've been in therapy for a dozen years, and one thing therapists hate is calling yourself "crazy." They hate people saying they're crazy. Occasionally they will tolerate talking about "crazy thoughts," but not just crazy.

The thing is.. I would much rather call myself "crazy" than sick. Maybe that's less compassion? But I don't like to think of myself as sick even if I have various mental health diagnoses. These don't make me sick or weak. These can't be cured with a pill or procedure like so many physical ailments. As much as we may hate it, they're more like a way of life.. and I would rather think of myself as having a crazy absurd life than being someone who is chronically ill.

As far as my craziness goes, I was diagnosed with depression at age 15. It started long before that. I can remember in middle school holding a pocket knife to my wrist or a lighter to my foot. I was never an overall happy child. I was anxious and filled with self hatred. I was convinced that I didn't make friends because there was something wrong with me. In 10th grade, I started hurting myself.. scratches and minor stuff to start. Then I wrote some slightly screwed up depressed poetry in english class. Then I put a clipart of a razor on the assignment. I didn't tell myself it was a cry for help.. but I ended up being turned into the school social worker, and all this began. At first it was moderate depression. Then it was major depression. Now it's major depressive disorder, recurrent, severe. I am oddly proud of this diagnosis (crazy, right?). Mostly because it took them a long time to acknowledge how bad it was.

Then I found myself in college. I had convinced my psychiatrist I was cured and she took me off meds. I was doing well for a while. Then the depression set in, and in addition to going back to self harm, I decided I should start throwing up what I ate. Within a few months, I was binging and purging 2-3 times today. I was abusing diuretics, diet pills, laxatives, and I ended up in treatment. It was a day program because bulimics don't get the privilege of going inpatient for help.
Bulimia came and went. I managed over 6 months without purging in 2010 after spending 6 weeks at Remuda Ranch for residential treatment.

The key for me is that, even inpatient or residential, I found ways to hurt myself. Stress from work and some stuff that would require another post. I decided to go to graduate school. I got my bachelors in biology in 2009. In 2011 I started working on my masters. I moved into a one bedroom apartment near school, and I started drinking.

Now it's 2.5 years later. I drink 10-14 shots of vodka every night. I've been inpatient for detox twice. I did a 8 week long IOP (which I am still paying for). I spent this last Christmas and New Years Eve in rehab. I lasted a couple weeks, then spring semester started. I taught my first class (I'm a TA), and then started crying walking to my car.

So yes, crazy fits pretty well. I'm a work in progress.