Help! Am I Crazy?

I hate to say I struggle with mental illness. I prefer to thrive with it. Show it who’s boss. Thank God for my meds and hear Mom’s sing song voice as she says “better living through chemistry” elongating the “e” sound the “y” makes and then laughing. But even as I thrive, there is an aspect of the struggle that I cannot deny. Grief is an emotion, but I would classify it in my life as a true illusionist.

One of the things I fear is going through another episode, which does not occur when I am properly medicated. In my mother’s decline and in her passing grief became a masked imposter of depression, anxiety and mania all at once. I would have my therapy sessions just bawling that after 20 years of hard work I was in fact one step away from ending my life or checking myself into a psych ward. Never in my life have I been properly medicated and experience suicidal idealtions until my mom passed away. I never thought I was manic until Mom passed away. I never felt so much pain in my core, so much pain in my body as when mom passed. “What’s happening?” I’d sob to my counselor. “Grief, that’s what.” The emotions felt so much more like real episodes than before. It seemed grief heightened my anger, my paranoia, it kicked my confidence to the ground and stomped on it. The solitude of the country life only made the grief louder and stronger. Was I crazy? I sure felt it. But no. So in grief I’ve had to revisit past traumas, it’s brought up PTSD. It has dressed up as an episode and smothered me almost to death. But am I crazy? Nope! I just loved my mom that much! It’s grief.