A Shout Out To Chatty Cathy

Crazy pill count;
AM .5 Ativan, 90 Cymbalta, 5 Abilify, 10 Viibryd, 25 Lamictal
afternoon .5 Ativan, 5 Abilify
PM .5 Ativan, 5 Zyprexa

When I was at Dr. Crazy's office on "Rash Watch" the other day, I decided to clean out my purse. I came across a little old notebook. Inside this notebook were desperate, angry, scribbles from a suicidal afternoon, in that very waiting room, from that very chair, and a really important lesson. I thought I would share it with you today, as I intended for it to be a blog post many moons ago.

And so here we go a step back in time...

I don't usually talk in Dr. Crazy's waiting room, and especially not when I choose the chair in the corner so I can face the wall, cover my face with my hair, and cry. There I sat sobbing, wiping my face with my only tissue I had used repeatedly to blow my nose. Call me old fashioned, but I don't like random people watching me smear boogers on my face. But more importantly, I can't stand anyone seeing me cry.

To my dismay, Chatty Cathy was sitting nearby.

"Are you okay?"
"No."
"What's wrong?"
"Thank you for asking. That's very kind. But I really don't want to talk about it."
"Bad day? I've had bad days before."

Of course she has. Everybody has. But the way she said it rubbed me the wrong way. In my head I thought, "Really, bad day? How about there's no reason to live so let's just nip this living thing in the bud day."

Then she asked if I was there to see Dr. Crazy. I said that I was. She asked what time my appointment was. I explained that I didn't have one, that I was kind of an emergency fit me in type thing.

She replied:
"I've done that before. I ended up in the hospital that day.
Whew, I really lost my marbles that day! That was a bad day."

"I've Lost My Marbles" by Marsha Hale

Right then and there I had to slap myself on the cheek. Hard.
And kick myself in the shin. Hard.
Who am I?!
How dare I assume my pain is more painful, my tears saltier, or my darkness darker than hers or any others?

When we are depressed we are so caught inside ourselves we can't see out. We can't see or remember anything but pain. And that pain can be so damn painful it's hard to imagine that anyone else near or far, Earthly or extraterrestrial, has felt such deep pain. But they have. They might even being feeling that way in that same moment as you.

I learned a really important lesson to never assume my pain or suffering is greater than any others. Pain is pain, for crying out loud, does it matter to what degree? The important part is not how deep is your pain, but to remember that you are not alone in your pain. You are never alone.

Chatty Cathy gave me such great gifts that day.
She reminded me:
*how connected we all are and that I am not alone in the darkness
*there is always a way back into the light - after all, she made it back
*not to assume that someone wouldn't be able to understand what I am feeling - because she did understand

A big thank you to Chatty Cathy. I'm sorry I don't know your real name.
Thank you for being my teacher that day.
Thank you for bringing me hope.
Thank you for insisting on talking when I clearly didn't want to.
Thank you for being you.
Oh, and thanks for that fresh Kleenex...

Until next time...