“You’ve been complaining ever since you got here.”

Every 10 years, the monks in the monastery are allowed to break their vow of silence to speak 2 words. Ten years go by and it’s one monk’s first chance. He thinks for a second before saying, “Food bad.” Ten years later, he says, “Bed hard.” It’s the big day, a decade later. He gives the head monk a long stare and says, “I quit.” “I’m not surprised,” the head monk says. “You’ve been complaining ever since you got here.”*

I was 29 when I stopped smoking. Coincidently, I was 29 when I started taking my first anti-depressant. My son, bless his heart, told me a couple of weeks later, “Mom, I’m glad you quit smoking. You were mean when you smoked!” He had no idea that the anti-depressants were what had made me less “mean”. He thought the cigarettes were the culprit to my anger. I think I was more relieved than my son that I wasn’t “mean” anymore. It tears a person up to carry around that much anger.

You see, when I was younger, I was “complicated” (to put it nicely). I was like the monk in the joke. If there was something to complain about - I found it. Then, I made sure that everyone around me knew about my unhappiness with the situation. Sometimes, if I felt more out of sorts that normal, I would actually look for something to be upset about. Why? My best guess would be – I wanted everyone else to feel the confusion, anger, unease, rage, displacement, hurt, and madness that I was feeling. The confused feelings that I had 24/7 that would not go away.

My “madness” peeked when I was 23 or 24 and continued until I was diagnosed Manic Depressive at 33. Even with the anti-depressants I was given, the cycling really got out of control. (I had to go through several medication rotations before finding a regimen that worked for me.) My lows were very low… I would spend days in bed without eating or showering - crying uncontrollable. My highs were just as bad. I once charged about $2000 while shopping in a matter of days…. Money I didn’t have. I had no idea what was wrong with me! That was a very long 10 years of living in my own personal Hell. (Not to mention what I subjected my family and friends to in the process.)

One of the reasons it took me so long to get help…. I was embarrassed to get help! I was embarrassed to tell someone how I was feeling! I had gone to counseling most of my adult life and yet I hadn’t even been honest with my therapist during those years. I couldn’t explain how I felt on the inside without sounding like I was crazy. I felt I couldn’t tell her how I was acting at home without her thinking less of me. Mental Illness was/is so TABOO. But, finally, I decided to open up – It was either get better or give up.

If you are struggling, remember: Your life can be amazing…. I know – I’ve made it through the darkness to be here today!


*From Reader’s Digest June 2009 America’s 10 Funniest Jokes
Joke #4 Submitted by Alan Lynch