I'm new here and have spent some time reading many of the entries before
deciding to join. Although each person and their story is unique, it
struck me just how many things we all share in common. How much pain we
are in, how lonely we are, how isola...
View more
I'm new here and have spent some time reading many of the entries before
deciding to join. Although each person and their story is unique, it
struck me just how many things we all share in common. How much pain we
are in, how lonely we are, how isolated we can become, how fearful we
are of both the past, present, and future. Some of us have just climbed
aboard the Nuttyville Express stopping all stations and some of us have
been hopping on and off the train for years. Some people never leave the
train at all. Because we keep our head down and don't look around (even
at the beautiful view outside the window) it takes a while to realise
that the train is packed with fellow travelers who are suffering in
silence too. It is only when a connection is made that we realise that
the misery, the anger, the hoplessness, the despair, and the pain is
something that we all have in common. We all search for answers; a
reason for why we are the way we are, a definative explanation to
explain the $64,000 mental illness question: why? Genetics? Rotten
Mother/or Father? Brain Rot? Faulty Brain Chemistry? Unhappy Childhood?,
Domestic Violence?, Not Breastfed? I think we spend years of our lives
trying to work out why. We go to counseling and pyschiatrists and we
take pills, more pills, different pills, until we literally rattle in
the hopes of poisoning that wretched monkey who has climbed on our back
and is determined to hang on no matter how hard we try to throw him off.
As time goes on that monkey gets so fat from feeding on our soul that
one slip and we're crushed flat as a pancake. Or snap a hip. The monkey
enjoys the train ride immensly and shares tips with all his fellow
monkeys on how to maintain a firm grip at all times. Throwing garbage
around in the carriage to see what sticks is an added bonus. He's having
a wonderful time and never wants the fun to end. But like all good
things it does eventually end - sometimes he slinks off to the monkey
only carriage and pouts and broods - sometimes he is escorted off the
train by the pharmaceutical guards and sometimes he is thrown from the
moving train only to be run over by an anxiety (or manic) train going in
the opposite direction. But he doesn't go down without a fight. He knows
your weaknesses; he knows your triggers. But then something happens. You
start to recognize (after many train trips) the obvious signs that the
monkey has packed a bag for the trip to Nuttyville and has his train
ticket ready. You spoil everything by refusing to go along no matter how
loud he screeches or how much he jumps up and down. You know how he
operates and while you fear that you haven't seen the last of him, you
now have a better understanding of how to battle him if he does decide
to pay you a visit. Eternal vigilence! is what you must practice because
monkeys are sneaky - they can climb stealthily and carefully onto your
back and suggest in a soft, caring tone that a train trip to a nice
place called Nuttyville might be helpful. Before you can say 'but I hate
trains' your off the train and wandering around bewildered and
frightened at the chaos around you. Nothing makes sense, when you speak
to other people they either don't understand what you are saying or
ignore you. You shout, you cry, you beg for help but everyone seems to
be caught up in their own lives, their own problems. Then you notice a
shop that has a large friendly sign saying 'Don't Panic' Help Available.
You peer through the windows and see people with caring expressions on
their faces talking with the walking wounded. Some were silent and some
were crying but what struck you the most was that the people with the
caring faces were really listening to those in pain. Someone sees you
and smiles, waving you to come in. You have taken the first step; always
the most difficult. You cry out your pain and they gently tell you what
must be done before you can finally go home. You try, you fail, you try
again, you go down to the train tracks wandering if the pain will stop.
You realize that you don't really want to die, you just want the pain to
stop. You go back and try again and gradually you begin to reclaim your
life. You accept that the monkey may never leave completely. You accept
that like a diabetic who must take insulin, you may need to take those
pills to function properly. You suddenly understand that a lot of those
negative things you have been thinking and feeling don't seem to be as
real or as important as they once were. It was that sneaky freakin
monkey whispering all that garbage into your ear the whole time. You
shake your head trying to work out how you fell for such a cruel trick.
It took pills and help to kick the monkey through the goal posts. The
crowd goes wild and you raise your arms in a sign of victory knowing
that you may have to kick a few more goals before you either win or
draw, but you have a smile on your face and hope for the future. You see
the Nuttyville train pass by and you give a cheery wave and blow a
rasberry at all the pouting, sullen monkeys. They try to throw garbage
at you but then realize that the windows have been nailed shut. The
sneaky Pharmaceutical Guards giggle and snigger. I'm 53, diagnosed with
chronic depression in '98, and am currently going through my 2nd episode
in 12 months (or maybe its the same episode? Bad Monkey!). My doctor has
increased my medication and at the moment I feel dead inside. The monkey
and I are having a Matrix-style fight in the train station but I know,
like Neo, that I'm gonna throw that sneaky SOB under the first train
that pulls in. Maybe there is no acceptable answer to why - maybe if we
just accept that our illness is part of who we are and that it needs to
be treated instead of trying to 'cure' it or pretend it doesn't exist we
might find a measure of peace and the the ability to see past it when it
strikes. Or maybe we just need mental Angry Birds with a passion for
destroying monkeys instead of pigs...
A Bouquet for Pearls - share your appreciation for other members
