After reading the replies to yesterday's blog post, I really started thinking. I had a long drive to the university library this afternoon- an hour through the flat Midwestern countryside- to do some research for my class, which made the perfect atmosphere for some deep thought.

Dearest Sarah said that mental illness is so often an invisible burden- and I think that's why I like all of you out there in the blogosphere, and especially all of you here in the cul-de-sac. You get it. You know what it's like to be faced with a situation, only to have it compounded by whatever it is that you're dealing with. That sometimes, being marginally psychologically intact at the end of the day is enough.

I would like other people to give me credit sometimes, to say "Wow, that must have been hard for you." On the other hand, you can't tell just by looking at me. I don't look like I have an eating disorder, or depression, or OCD. I look fairly normal.

Even then, people don't get it. They don't get how hard it can be sometimes. How much you can miss out on things. How tiring it can be. Even me. I don't always get it for other people, even those with the same mental illnesses as me.

I did NOT want to go to the library today. I was looking forward to it about as much as a dentist appointment. I didn't want to have to go and talk to a librarian, explain what I was looking for, feel like a numskull, look some more, once again look like a numskull, and eventually, 10 hours later, be on my way. My advisor said "Just ask the librarian." I hate talking to new people. Specifically when I have a large chance of sounding like a jackass.

But, hello...I worked in a library for two years. It's not like I haven't heard people not know what they're looking for. Or judged them because of it (except the guy who was looking for porn but trying not to look like he was looking for porn. That was pretty funny. I led him to the art books and left him alone.)

But I went to the library. Sounded a bit like a numskull. Searched Medline for four straight hours. Emailed my advisor. Sounded like a total idiot. She emailed me back. Things got settled, but she must think I'm pretty dumb.

But I emailed her. Got things straightened out. Coursework is almost ready to go.

I felt stupid and I did it anyway.

I doubt the librarian will remember me in the slightest. I know I didn't have the strangest request (could you show me information on the use of involuntary treatment in tuberculosis?), and I sounded competent. The words "teaching a Johns Hopkins in the fall" tend to do that for a gal. And maybe my advisor thinks I'm dumber than dirt. I don't know, and I wouldn't expect an honest answer if I asked. But I'm still going to be teaching and still going to be paid.

(I know I assume a lot about what others think of me. I know it's fairly self-defeating. But that's not the point I'm trying to make)

There are times when I want to yell from the rooftops, "I ate my snack when no one was looking. I could have thrown it out, but I didn't." That's where I come in. Pat myself on the back, Good job Carrie. It's nice when you get complemented for a job well done. That happened to me many times in the course of my life.

It didn't mean anything because I didn't believe it. Good job for a 98% on an exam? Seriously- you didn't see the two questions I missed. And that paper? I wrote what the prof wanted, I knew a lot about the subject, I found a really good book, I got lucky. Are you kidding? I pulled that stuff out of my ass at the last second. It's garbage. Believe me, I'm not thin. There is so much flab left on me- look at this! ::tugs at skin on stomach:: You can't even see my ribs!

I think you get the idea.

Now I'm not intending to try and give myself credit for being thin. Aside from the immediate medical complications, no one outside my close family and friends really cared what I weighed. Anorexia is not something that I would take credit for, even if I could.

But the other stuff? Maybe I did talk to a librarian who knew his stuff. Maybe the prof did ask the questions that I happened to know. It's entirely possible that I land on dumb luck sometimes.

There are other things, though, smaller things, like getting out of bed in the morning, fixing myself a hot dinner rather than munching on a Snickers and calling it a meal. Asking a friend out to lunch again (yes, that's the him friend. Just trying to figure out how to approach him. No comments necessary- I've already talked it over with Wonder Woman, aka my therapist). Not playing with sharp objects just for fun. For eating everything I needed to in order to maintain recovery.

I need to start giving myself credit for that.

So good job, Carrie, for making it through another day and doing the utter best you could.

::pats shoulder::