tantrum

I have been a screaming hotheaded psycho of late. Between episodes of dramatic and intense weeping have come searing explosions of near nuclear rage.

One could make the case for this being a natural reaction to what is happening in this country, in the world, and I'll make that case. I wonder sometimes how folks can just go about their daily lives, seemingly oblivious to what is happening politically.

I have come within millimeters of kicking my doctor in the face, have gone so off on the Asplundh tree men butchering my pecan tree that reinforcements were called out to attempt to calm me. I've written about being well armed, with plenty of ammunition, and it's a little frightening, really.

My friend Paula was sitting in her college classroom at about 20 years of age. In the midst of the lecture, she realized that she could reach up and lift off the top of her skull, exposing a vast array of beautiful jewel-like crystals in her head. After removing the gorgeous crystals for further examination, she realized she could not fit them back in and at that point started the first of many, many bad experiences associated with schizophrenia.

That one can simply be okay one moment and not the next is something I have been aware of since my mother vanished in 1969. One of my lifelong fears has been that I will lapse into mental illness. I refused antidepressants when my husband was desperately sick, despite the doctor's insistence.

In my world crying is a good thing, laughter even better. I am not depressed, not really. It's the mix that's out of whack for me right now and so I go searching for explanations. World events, yes. Political climate in this country, check. Economy, certainly. Ailing parent, absolutely. Uncertainty, yes. And in this examination of causal factors I've finally nailed it: steroids.

The shot I got in the joint of my second toe has run me purely off the rails. I should have recognized it, having had steroid rages before after treatment for poison ivy. The lack of sleep, the jazzed-up energy, the ease of crying which so easily transitions into screaming rage. I am healed just by knowing what it is. Isn't it funny how that works? The unknown is so dreadful and intolerable and nothing changes by knowing except that with knowing comes understanding. I think there's a life lesson in there. Hope you are all well and steroid-free.