Whaddaya MEAN You've Never Heard of Me?!?

My brother, Mark came over for dinner today. I made a big stir-fry that turned out really delicious. The cheesecake brownies were delicious too and I sent him home with a couple of sizable ones. I'm starting to sound like one of those grandmotherly-types that keeps telling people to eat, and wants to send them home with big Tupperwares full of food. Not that I have any actual Tupperware. Anyway, there was food, (Bro-ham called my cooking "gourmet") trivia, great conversation. He's such a good guy. H took this awesome picture of us:

I like it very much, although I'm pretty sure having a shine on your face is one of those things chicks are supposed to feel mortified about. And just for fun, here's one of JoJo. He's once again making sure that he's the center of attention.

Not pictured: Pentelope, H.

I've been debating making a conscious choice to stop saying "Mentally ill." I don't care for the phrase, connotatively. More importantly though, I don't think it's accurate. There is no cure for a mental health diagnosis. Even a supposed cure-all like ECT (I've never had ECT, but it's one of my greatest fears in re: The Crazy) doesn't actually make you not mentally ill. Like the common cold, treatments are designed to relieve symptoms so the patient is able to function out in the world. Saying a person is "ill" all the time...forever is goddamn depressing. If I take my meds and do what I'm supposed to, I feel reasonably well most of the time. So calling me "ill" is not accurate. It's not like I'm contagious.
But what to say instead? I'm okay with the word Mental even though the connotation of that is not great in many circles. After trying and rejecting several options I'm almost ready to settle on Mentally Odd. That sounds closest to the truth to me.

My brain chemistry works differently than a lot of other people's. If I want to have a job and maintain relationships the way other people expect and deserve, I have to take pills to alter my brain chemistry. That sounds pretty simple, but socially/politcally/emotionally it opens up a whole can of worms. I know people who literally flinch at hearing the word "crazy." They view it as accusatory and derogatory. They take great offense. It *is* kind of a low-brow way to refer to someone, and when people use it seriously or "half-jokingly"--you can bet it's coming from a combination of ignorance and judgement. The word "crazy" calls to mind images of ranting lunatics in straight jackets, being led away by men in white coats. We now know that not everybody with a mental health diagnosis (verbose phrase, isn't it?) reaches anything close to that point. But some of us do, and we're not entirely comfortable with people not taking it seriously. At the same time, it *can* be pretty fucking funny.

The word "insanity," like "crazy" gets tossed around all too often. Insipid people describe themselves as crazy if they lose their car keys or space out in traffic. That is a far cry from what actual mentally-odd people go through. (Okay, I tried it out there. How'd it sound?) I almost resent people using it casually and untruthfully. I do accept that it's in the vernacular now. More importantly, when people say it, I grok that they are talking about themselves and not me. Still, it's not accurate, just hyperbole. I don't want to be one of those douches who can't take a little hyperbole without getting all Gloria Allred on everyone. ;-]

My final point on insanity today is this: Having a brain chemistry that is different from the average person is a good thing, IMO. Not that I have a choice, but now that I understand what the hell's going on with me I am able to manage it in a way that still allows for feeling the highs and lows of life. I can get to my crazy for writing, and deal with my crazy for say, going to work. And my books really are getting better and better. Like regular people, sometimes it gets to be too much. But I can deal with it, sometimes with a bit of help. I'm not ashamed to ask for help if I need it. In fact, I'm proud that I can now recognize that I need it BEFORE I've done something horrible to fuck up my life. That thing recently was a pretty close call though, I admit. Anyway--I'm not trying to jump on a "we crazy people are sooooo much deeper than you" high horse. Just saying that there are benefits to having a brain that doesn't want you to do the things you think you want to do.
Mentally odd (!) people see the world differently that so-called sane people. We often do feel things with greater intensity than the average person (I almost want to use the word severely. We feel things severely.) and with my diagnosis, dizzying highs and crippling lows. Of course, there are also crippling highs and dizzying lows--which are not as good. The ability to see things in a different way from many is why so many of us become artists of one kind of another. Once we recognize that we have this ability (people usually have to tell us, because we don't tend to realize how different we are on our own) we typically aspire to hone it. People wonder why so many great musicians, actors, etc turn to drugs, or die young, or can't make a marriage last. It's because we're fucking crazy. ;-] Mentally odd people crave the outlet, the expression, the approval--even the applause when all those noisy people aren't scaring the shit out of us. But we also have issues. Scary, scary issues. Seeing things "differently" is natural for us. It's only different when compared to the "sane." But even a differently-mentally-odd partner (damn, it's getting verbose in here again) needs someone with some level of predictability. If we want to live and be around other people, we're better off etching our message of benevolent oddness into the glorious wall of human creativity--shut up, it's a metaphor--than we are etching it into our own collective forearms.

Plus, sometimes, writing a book about murdering people reminds us how wrong it is to actually murder people.