Wow, I go away for a while and Blogger gets all changed around and Googlized.
Google+ is probably the big reason I decided to try blogging again. For the last year or so I've kept an (almost) daily journal and it satisfied me. Then, suddenly, in mid-November, I kept forgetting to write, even a few lines, and when I did right it was little more than a weather report and maybe a quote from a book.
And, of course, November was another run at NaNoWriMo which died barely a week in when I could not get involved, interested, or arsed to write anything on the story I'd started. My mind wandered. I cleaned and organized things instead. I started checking online more often. Something it out of balance. Something is off.
I'd taken to writing about my Crazy on Google -- I might transfer some of those posts over here. I imagine there will be a period of cross over and double posting while I get used to the new interconnectivity. Anyway, it seems like I've been in heavy battle with my Crazy in the last couple of years and am reaching a new higher level of handling it. I look back on my life since I really learned about the Crazy and see it as a series of waves. I have periods when I felt ok, thought I was doing alright, but then something terrible would happen and I'd be sliding down again -- being separated from The Husband for 4 months, moving away from the only area where I'd ever lived to another state, living for 2 years in a state of stasis, not knowing the future, my miscarriages, my father's death -- a series of stressful situations that, if I didn't have the Crazy hanging around in my head would have been tough, but not so tough as they were with the Crazy.
I still get visits from the Crazy. This area is bisected by a river that, because of a dam further south, has been swelled into a considerable series of lakes. One particular two lane road crosses this river/lake. It's an old road, a local road, and I drive it frequently because it's the most direct way to church. There is water on both sides for a considerable distance (the actual bridge is fairly short, maybe 20-30 yards ) and there are no lights along it. People go there to swim and party on the shore. I particularly hate driving home on it at night. There's a railroad bridge on the south side -- to the right as I'm driving to church for chorus rehearsal or a meeting or something -- but nothing on the north side as I'm driving back. As soon as I see the guardrail I start thinking about driving my car through the rail and into the lake.
I don't want to do this, you see, but the thought won't go away. I find myself picturing, imagining in great detail, the sounds, the water rising into the car, my panic in trying to escape (the Mythbusters episode gave me lots of material for that). I find I get more and more tense as I near the center of the bridge, pushing away the impulse to jerk the steering well to the right. It's dark, trees grow along the lake edge, faint lights reflect on the water...and I'm always so relieved when I get off the bridge and away from the water. I'm usually driving too fast by then, which is bad because it's not a high speed road and the local constabulary often camp there.
I don't always have that struggle. I frequently get across it without even noticing, thinking about music or getting home or whatever. But I struggle with it often enough. There is an alternate, longer way home, but it also crosses a bridge -- admittedly a 4 lane, brightly lit bridge where I've only rare had those thoughts. But the part of me that is stubborn and won't give in to the crazy won't take that option. Besides, I rarely know until I'm there whether I will have a bout of Crazy or not, so there's no chance to think "Ooops, Crazy! Better go the other way!" That's how Crazy works. It knows you. If you want to try to arrange your life so you don't get the Crazy going, you end up either living in a box or developing a whole new style of Crazy as you go around trying to bubblewrap the world (or, worse still, expecting others to bubblewrap it for you).
At least two or three times I've had Zeus in the back seat, and the thought that I could not kill him, that I'd never do that to my wonderful dog, was a good anchor against the pull of the water. But it doesn't make sense to take him most of the time.
I don't think I'll ever do it -- I really don't look forward to death with any eagerness -- but, as I said, it's the Crazy and it operates by its own rules. I have to keep an eye on it, and I have to tell those who care about me what's going on so they can keep an eye on me, too.