Happy in the Gray

My friend Rex posted about happiness yesterday, and it got me thinking. Where is it written that we, as humans, are supposed to be happy?

Everyone gets depressed sometimes, true, but not everyone has depression. If we've spoken about it or if you've read some of my previous posts, you probably know that in the past I've been the version of myself that doesn't sing or knit and gets home from work every day to spend six hours sitting on my bedroom floor crying. Because I have been gifted with self-awareness, it's easy enough for me to look at that person and say, "Ok Carrie, this is not you." The trick though, is being able to ask for help once you've reached that realization. There is no doubt in my mind that I am incredibly lucky. Yes, I have bipolar and asthma and a few other medical issues, but I have insurance. I was raised to know that those things can and will be taken care of. Even now, if I didn't have insurance, there are enough drug companies and programs that will give medication for free.

Medication is a challenging thing. For some people taking it is a no-brainer, something they are happy to do. Maybe they see it as a cure, maybe not. Others are staunchly opposed to taking it for a variety of reasons, namely because they don't want to be chemically altered or become dependent. To me, those are the black and white views. I used to be absolutely against taking medication, and then it became a necessary part of my life. Now I like to think I'm happy somewhere in the gray - no longer fighting against my depressed self sans militia simply for fear of dependency, but not succumbing to the false assumption that medication will solve all of my problems.

Here's a secret: I haven't taken my meds in about a month now. How am I doing? A little up a little down - just like everyone else. If I feel myself slipping, I know I can take care of it. My issue at this point though, is that my anti-depressant basically induces my manic rage. I'm working on getting a new drug. I'm glad that I know myself well enough to be able to notice those patterns without the help of a doctor.

I realize that I will probably be on an anti-depressant for the rest of my life, and that's ok. That's ok because I know who I am, and it's not the depressed, pathetic version. It's the strong, goofy, nerdy version. Medication doesn't put you in a chemical-happiness bubble, it keeps you from losing your true self to your depression.

And honestly? It helps. So am I happy? Am I depressed? Not all of the time, no. Am I thinking clearly and doing what I feel like I should be doing? For myself, yes. Something that always makes me happy is being able to put a smile on other people's faces. I think that's one of the reasons I seem so motherly some times - because if I know you're sad, I will try and go out of my way to put a smile on your face.