Not okay with okay

Lately I have been feeling okay. Any symptoms I have experienced passed quickly, my anxiety and agitation have been minimal. A big source of anxiety for me had actually been my other symptoms. A moment like the one I had yesterday, when I briefly believed that Satan was telling me to hurt myself, would have caused me a lot of panic and anxiety a few weeks ago. Now, I accept it and move on, noting it in my list of symptoms I experience.

Today I realized that this bothers me. It sounds strange to say, but I am not okay with being okay with my symptoms.

I was contemplating my symptoms and my recent breaks with reality, and my calm acceptance of them. Since when is hearing a demon from the pits of hell just another day? I get it, this isn't real, its a symptom. I guess that the way I am handling it is, in some ways, a healthy approach. I know that, but it just feels wrong. Calmly writing in a notebook "Heard Satan telling me to [x,y,z] tonight" - I shouldn't be okay with that, should I?

I am probably wrong in the way I am thinking about this. I am probably only creating unnecessary anxiety and agitation and panic. I am probably being irrational.

I just feel like not FIGHTING against this - just calmly letting it pass - it just feels so WRONG.

I am probably wrong about all of this, but I feel like I am doing this all wrong.

It seems all backward. I do what the experts say is the healthy approach, and I feel like everything in me is rejecting it. I feel like I am not FIGHTING. I feel like observing, watching and accepting these symptoms and letting them pass - I feel like this makes me somehow weak. I am probably wrong.

That's the thing about therapy, and education - learning a different way to deal with things just feels so WRONG at first. Changing my approach and thought processes and behaviors - it's seems impossible sometimes.

I feel like I should be freaking out about some of these things. Feeling and hearing things that aren't there, sensing a presence, and my mind's belief that these things represented reality - even just for a moment - I feel like that should be freaking me out.

I worry that maybe this calm is a side effect of my meds. Perhaps my emotions are dulled, and I am not panicked because I can't feel anything that strongly.

I worry that my acceptance is a symptom of my illness. Am I now so crazy that I am accepting these things as a part of my normal life? Is this part of my sickness? The progression of my disease?

I hope that this calm, this acceptance - I hope that this is just me learning a new strategy and a healthy way of dealing with things, an effect strengthened by the med changes.

My mind is torn, confused, and uncertain. I am not sure if I am okay with being okay with all of this.

My mind's rejection of my now calmer approach then creates another layer of thoughts. Why am I rejecting this healthy way of dealing with my symptoms? Am I rejecting it because I am not truly well enough to change my thoughts and behaviors? Is my rejection of the right way a sign that I am not strong enough to do this, to heal, to cope, to manage?

This is the unhealthy way of thinking my therapist was talking about. The thoughts keep coming back to the same thing. The same idea.

"When I am symptom free, it is because I am strong. When I experience symptoms, it is because I am weak."

That is seriously where my mind takes me again and again. Hearing a voice makes me feel weak. Having a panic attack about it makes me feel weak. Calmly accepting it makes me feel weak. Questioning either approach makes me feel weak. Questioning my questioning makes me feel weak.

I know, in my head, that this illness is not my fault. My symptoms are not my fault. My disturbed thoughts and behaviors are not my fault. Sure, I can learn strategies and coping skills to handle my symptoms and minimize the negative effects they might have. But I can't stop symptoms from happening. I know all of this in my head. I do.

But in my heart, I don't buy it. There HAS TO be a reason that this illness sometimes runs my life. This disease must have a cause. There must be something.

I always turn it into blaming myself. A part of me knows that I am wrong. A part of me knows that this is not my fault. But I still find myself directing the blame inward.

This is the thing about mental illness and the unhealthy thoughts that accompany it. Even when my rational mind knows that the way I am thinking is wrong, it doesn't stop me from thinking that way. It's not like my brain just stops whatever crazy thing it is doing and reverts back to sanity. Knowing something is crazy and that my mind is disturbed doesn't stop the disruptions and the crazed thoughts. Knowing that what I am experiencing is not reality doesn't change the fact that it feels so fucking real.

It's tough to explain to someone who has never been there.

My depression isn't sadness. It's a soul-crushing darkness, an obsession with death and dying. It's apathy and nihilism - I want to set the world on fire just to watch it burn. It's believing that I am worthless, that everything is worthless. Nothing matters. Nothing, nothing. It's believing that of the sun were to explode tomorrow, and turn this world to ashes - that would be an improvement.

My manic episodes aren't sunshine and rainbows. It's a nuclear weapon. Energy, energy, energy. So much energy. But it's not skipping through fields of flowers kind of energy. Oh sure, it might start out that way. A childlike wonder, a puppy's exuberance, joy and giddiness. But it changes, and soon it's throw shit around, hit something, and break something type of energy. It's anger and rage and destruction and mayhem. It's hedonism and anarchism. I crave money, power, sex, and every sin and vice. And the rage. So much rage. It overwhelms me.

I hear things, feel things, and believe things that are disturbing. Magical, mystical things. Dark and evil things. I have been to the edge, I have seen the darkness. I have contemplated or attempted suicide multiple times. I have gotten as far as writing a suicide note on three separate occasions. I have heard what I believed to be angels, gods, demons and satan. I have felt their presence, the warmth of the breath on my ear. I have seen the veil lift, and suddenly felt in communion with all of nature, with all of the universe.

No matter how much I know that these things are symptoms of a disease. No matter how many times I remind myself that these things I am experiencing are the result of chemical misfirings in my brain. No matter how many times I remind myself that this isn't my fault, that sometimes, these things are entirely out of my control. That's not how it FEELS. No matter how wrong I know that feeling is, it's tough to shake. When your mind can trick you into hearing devils, convincing you to blame yourself is pretty easy.

I am trying to remember to not fall into this endless cycle of negative thinking. This circle of self blame. I am trying.

I feel okay. And I am trying to feel okay with feeling okay.