Crazy - Room 437. Narrative on manic-depressive disorder.

Essay by travelbiznzUniversity, Bachelor'sA+, August 2003

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In order to define crazy, you have to actually experience crazy. To feel your entire existence dissolve around you and be replaced by the icy cold of uncertainty only skims the surface of this unbearable reality that thousands of people face each day. People like me.

As I lie awake, counting the dimples in the stark white tile of the ceiling above me, I am numbed by the unrelenting battle of chaos in my mind. The doctors tell me that my mental state is not within the realms of "normal". But what is normal? Is wakening each morning to a lonely house, spending an un-godly amount of time at a job I hate, getting paid half what I'm worth, fighting with my ex-husband over a child I never see, and pretending to like it considered normal? No thank you! I'll take crazy. So here I lie, in room 437, grasping for a new state of being, one that others define as "normal".

Life wasn't always this complicated. I had a beautiful home, a decent bank account, and a family who supported my decisions. I had created my own illusion of what seemed normal. Suddenly, I discovered that my husband, my "life-long" companion, wanted something entirely different out of life than I did. Abruptly I was jerked back into "reality". My fairy-tale was over. We agreed to divorce. For better or for worse, it happened. I became a statistic. I was part of the 64% of the population that couldn't make their marriage work. But I had experienced trials before; I thought surely I would make it through divorce. I was wrong. As my world fell apart I felt more and more abandoned, more alone then ever before. In retrospect, I realize I isolated myself from those who...