What you forget

When I first started this blog, I named it "Mood-Disordered Mama" because I was knee-deep in adjustment issues. I had dealt with a breakdown when N was 9 months old--the constant crying, the anxiety that kept me from eating, the panic attacks that woke me all hours of the night, the intrusive thoughts that haunted me throughout my waking. I felt like I would never, ever feel "normal" again, although normal for me had been none too happy, really.

I felt like I would never feel like life wasn't a struggle.

But over time, as with any change, I did adjust. I got used to being on medication and the idea of being on medication. My symptoms eased. I learned a great deal about myself and my negative thinking through therapy. I think I became a better person...or at least a more knowledgeable person.

Life gets busy, and you do feel "normal" again, even if it is a new kind of normal. You forget how badly you felt. But then you have moments or episodes when you remember again, when you feel maybe just twinges of the sadness, the anxiety, the panic. It doesn't do you in; it doesn't take control of your entire life as it had.

But it does make you feel that maybe you don't have as great a handle on yourself as you like to think you do. It makes you remember that your issues are ingrained, set in stone, that your medication eases them, masks them, makes them bearable but under no circumstances does it make them go away forever. You are in remission; you are not cured.

I have a terrible memory, and I have read that folks with OCD do have memory issues, which is why they obsess and are compulsive. Their brains don't remember that they already locked their car and therefore don't need to relock it over and over or worry about whether they locked it. They don't remember that they did turn off the oven and therefore don't need to turn the car around 3 times to recheck it.

For me, my memory problems also make me forget that I struggle with my moods and have my entire life. Being down, being the pessimist, being the curmudgeon are what feels "normal," even though I know that this is unhealthy and really, truly abnormal thinking and feeling. But when I feel it again, after forgetting, it almost feels like falling into a soft, warm bed, the bed I grew up in, the bed that enveloped me my entire life.

Even the most dysfunctional of us feel like what we know, have known our entire lives, feels safe and secure, even if it is the worst thing for us.