Getting back on track

Oh, I am exhausted today.  It is the kind of exhaustion from having a newborn.  I was up all night with my son and I am just not used to that lack of sleep these days.  Funny how times change.  I used to do ok.  Not so much anymore.  I did get to do a lot of thinking last night, though.  A lot of thinking and a lot of fantasizing.  I used to have this wonderful vivid imagination, but as the crazies left, I shut my imagination out too.  It is time to pull some of that back in.  Some imagination is ok as an adult.  It is time I practiced some of that. 
Ironically, I have been facing my former demons or at least watching someone else face them through one of my best friends.  Her mother was diagnosed with psychotic depression.  I was diagnosed with depression with psychotic tendencies.  That was over 20 years ago.  A lot has changed in the mental illness world.  Now it would have the diagnosis of psychotic depression.  Seeing it through the eyes of someone else, someone more normal, only reminds me how crazy I really am and how different the rest of the world is from people like us.  People hear "psychosis" and they get scared.  Hell, I did when they told me about my tendencies.  I read a lot of true crime so my next thought was, "Goodness, am I dangerous then?  Will I hurt someone?"  The answer is yes.  My tendencies, however, center around me.  I was a danger to myself, and I am still am but in different ways than I was back then.  (Hey, if I can get through today without throwing up, that is a victory.  One day at a time is a cliche, but it is true.  Some days I even take a moment at a time!) 
I watch my friend talk about her mother and how mental illness is treated and I see how easy it is for our families to believe that there should be a quick fix for the illness.  Undoubtedly everyone in that situation would deny that is the case, but I have seen it myself from many angle, my own mother included.  Mental illness builds over years.  (With psychosis, however, it can come out in one large, uncomfortable burst.)  It built over years.  It takes time to detangle it and find the core (or cores) of the problem.  It is hard to treat because those of us with this illness are secretive and scared of being "found out" so you never really get the truth.  It is a hard disease to view from the outside, I am sure, so I do feel for those who love us.  I really do. 
I tell my hubby often that every day I tow that line of insanity.  I am thankful to stay on the proper side most days.  Sometimes, however, my obsessive-compulsiveness routes me dangerously close to the end of crossing over.  I see that after it happens, and yes, it scares the crap out of me.  These last few months have been hard at work and when the bulimia comes calling again, I know that I am slipping over.  I always find that terrifying.  I am hoping endlessly today to get back on track.  I only have another 2 hours or so before I will be asleep and there is comfort in that for sure. 
I am lucky.  My husband has weathered my illness with me for years.  He stayed with me when he probably should have left.  He stayed when most men would have left.  He is trying to accept that sometimes I have compulsions I cannot control which is not easy.  He tries to understand when I am binging and purging which is what I truly need at the time.  He never judges me then which is good because I judge myself enough for everyone.
Back on track?  I am hoping.  Just maybe.