...welcome to my ramblings...

9.02.2005

Written by my Grandma, Betty Allen...

My grandmother was a manic depressive. She wrote a book of her life (it's not published yet, but I hope to someday publish it) and as I was going through the pages, I came across this...it is like a prose almost or a story about her disease....One Hell of A Ride on the Roller Coaster....When I woke up that morning, I thought it was just another day. Was I ever in for a suprise? My old friend who lives somewhere inside my brain had decided to take me for a long trip. This monster is not like the ones you see and or ride in an amusement park. This demon takes control of your every waking moment. You might as well just sit back and enjoy the trip. Sometimes it takes you shopping and you buy everything you see, whether you need it or not. This time it decided we would clean the house, every single nook and cranny. I don't mean just using the sweeper and dusting. Nothing that simple, we would wash every single thing in the house or the yard. He kept me going all night and all day. I didn't even take time to eat or sleep. Two or sometimes I slept as much as three hours. He kept me going until I could barely make it up the stairs to go to bed. There were nights I had to crawl up the steps, but he showed me no mercy. I got so tired I would fall. I would cut myself and I made large sores on my hands. I bruised my knees until I was just about unable to get up when I sat down. I had always had beautiful fingernails. I abused my hands and tried to hide them so no one could see. We had to go to a social function of some sort and I went to the drug store and bought fake nails and glued them on. We need to name this monster, we can't go just saying the monster. The lowest, meanest thing I can think of is a copperhead snake, so we will just call him Red. Old Red never let up. He made me clean everything in the upstairs; there are three bedrooms and a shower up there. He made me clean all the closets and arrange the clothes in the room that I Had made into a walk-in closet. The clothes must be arranged by color, then skirts, blouses, dresses and everything else. Why he cared about this is beyond my comprehension. Then we started on the jewelry - it had to be put in it's own space. Red just drove me like a slave. I was on this hellish ride and couldn't get off. God have pity on anyone who gets in Red's way. He will just step on them and grind them under his feet. He is not a pretty sight. I haven't seen him but I know how he looks, with his copper bands and his eyes with their crossive slits. I hate him with a vengence, but that just makes him work me harder. It just about drives my darling husband, Neal, crazy. Sometimes I think he understands. He knows I am being driven to do all of these stupid things, but way down inside, I do not think he can comprehend how it really is. I hope he never finds out. Red is always there just waiting for me to jump on the roller coaster. Then he knows that he will take control and make me do some very stupid things. He will make me go shopping and I buy anything I happen to like for that day. Sometime after the first time I was really manic, in 1991, I started watching the Home Shopping Club and wasted about three thousand dollars on junk jewelry. My daughter, Diane and I went to look at some furniture for her house. She didn't buy anything, but Old Red made me get two lazy boy chairs and a new refrigerator. I just whipped out the old plastic...it would get me anything I wanted. Just whip out old plastic and bingo, it would get me anything I happened to want for that moment. That's all that was written...I know there are some edits necessary and it probably was going to go on and become a story, but that's all I've got. But it does shed a little light on how a person who is manic depressive feels at times. It gives a bit of insight how a person feels out of control and not themselves when they are depressed. This has helped me and my views on suicide. My grandma didn't committ suicide, but she has since passed. However, this writing helps me to see how some people I know who have died of suicide, or those who have attempted it, may have felt. Just wanted to share it with others.

3 comments:

Jill Blatt said...

thanks so much for sharing, steph. it is a crazy disease that i don't get, but this does make it a little clearer how someone else can have these feelings. please pray for my friend, her family, and me and my family as we are facing this trajedy. thanks in advance.

davidmac said...

thanks for sharing that i remeber you telling me about that book...

Corrie said...

Thanks Steph!