Monday, March 24, 2008


I've fought long and hard to maintain some semblance of normalcy. BE NORMAL. Not neurotic. Not flaky. Not dysfunctional. Not on medication. Just do the right thing. Not quirky. I realize that maybe I'm trying too hard. And the battle isn't worth winning because everyone else is CRAZY.

I've always harbored the secret thought that there are more crazy people walking around loose in the world than the ones that are locked up, in therapy, under control and functional. My job just reinforces this belief. I deal with more crazy people in a week than a psychiatrist. And they're OUT THERE......walking, talking, driving, living next to you, living their delusions and thinking that they're OK and you're not. So why am I trying so hard to hold on to an inkling of sanity?

If I join them, I can let loose as I please and people will say......."she's crazy" in hushed tones, and that will be that. Acceptance of the facts. I can be outrageous. No biggie. "She's crazy", "dont mess with her....."

The older I get the more I see people can't or won't or don't want to cope with the reality of the situation. It's easier to take Xanax or Seroquel or whatever the psychiatric  flavor of the month  is. It seems that the less coping skills you have, the better it is. Pill A will help you sleep. Pill B will help you deal. Pill C counteracts Pill A, but potentiates Pill B. Add some booze and it's a free-for-all.

I work for a living. This is my reality. I wasn't born a princess or a trustafarian.I can deal with that. Mind you, no matter how stressful the ER can be, I truly love my job. I have the responsibility of raising a family, tending to a husband, a child, some ill-mannered pets, 2 cars, a boat, a mortgage and a rental home. I take care of sick people, sometimes at the expense of my own health. I work at night and sleep in the daytime. I have friends I care for and sometimes worry about. I own a teenage girl.  That alone makes me a candidate for drug therapy.

I also clean house obsessively, dance the mambo by myself, talk to my dog like she's human and love wearing hats and shopping on Ebay. What pill do you take for that?

I can't afford the luxury of falling apart, even for a few hours. Nor do I want to. So what keeps my act together? Not drugs. Not booze. Not the eternal search for fun.  Not an eternal abiding faith in the powers UPSTAIRS. Maybe I'm just too busy to schedule a nervous breakdown. I don't know what keeps me together. Maybe it's the fact that I'm the control tower at this airport I call HOME. And if no one mans the tower, things just don't get done. I just know I'm keeping it real and while it's difficult sometimes when everyone around you is howling at the moon, it just gets done. Period. 

I've never been arrested. Never been to rehab. Never stalked anybody. Never broken a beer bottle over anyone's head. I've had my ups and downs in life but bouncing back seems to be the name of my game. I'm even learning to relax in MOM mode. I think that's progress. 

So if you can't beat them, you might as well join them right? HMMMMMM............I think I'll just be normal a little while longer. 

But I'll occasionally slip into the night, look at the sky and hoooooowwwwllllllllll................!!!

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