A review by lastofthewilds
Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

5.0

I am normal. I belong. I have a friend who can kick ass from a wheelchair. I live independently and get good grades. I’m an excellent lover. Like I said. I’m awesome. I’m Emmet David Washington. Train Man. The best autistic Blues Brother on the block.

days after putting down this book i'm still at a loss for words. how do you verbalize how much love you feel for two beautifully complex characters who just so happen to be diagnosed with autism/depression/anxiety? but oh boy, even if my circumstances originate from a different place, some of the described experiences hit close to home.

i've always struggled with anxiety and have enough ants skittering in and out of my brain to occupy myself for a lifetime if i never try to challenge them, but certain weeks of every month, my brain octopus decides to suit up in its finest suit of armor to engage in an even more epic battle against yours truly.

for that span of time, i welcome another round of exacerbated anxiety symptoms; drifting in a constant state of lethargy; tossing and turning in bed late into the night; extreme mood swings with plenty of crying & laughing spells (switching between these two within the snap of a finger is terribly disorienting); hypersensitivity to what people say/do around me, the news, sounds, you name it; depressive symptoms that crash in through the front door like unwanted houseguests and leave me lying in bed with a vast feeling of nothingness or inadequacy ramped up to 1000; pure, unadulterated rage coupled with the overwhelming urge to physically lash out triggered by the smallest of things (i've been set off by the sound of someone's breathing before. trust me, i don't get it either). if i could ride out the storm in a cocoon in complete isolation so the world would just be quiet, i would.

“When you have an invisible disease, your sickness isn’t your biggest problem. What you end up battling more than anything else, every single day, is other people.”

i relate to Jeremey in that some people think i am fully capable of controlling my emotions but “not trying hard enough,” or this is my excuse to be dramatic, moody, and at times, borderline hysterical (the number of times i've heard the off-hand "it must be your time of the month again")—as if i'd purposely choose to let everything hit a nerve and set me off in a fit of overwhelming rage—or grant the mere act of picking up the phone enough power to overwhelm me into a crying fit when it already makes my heart pound like a jackhammer in my chest on an average day.

it’s like losing sight of who i am, isolating myself as i fall into another identity crisis and berating my existence as the world's most temperamental, distant, fussy, and petulant monster. it’s a nightmare to spend so comparatively little time each month as my usual happy-go-lucky self before getting precariously thrown back into the pit to deal with those recurring enemies. time, who i am, my relationships—everything becomes muddled.

not recognizing yourself in the mirror some days is jarring, downright frightening, but very much like Emmet and Jeremey, i'm learning to adjust my lifestyle to control my brain octopus and be kinder to myself: "normal" as we often define it simply doesn't exist. this book serves as a great reminder to the world that there is a vast ocean lurking under the surface of everyone we meet.

may we all learn to empathize, support, and respect those struggling with their own personal brain octopuses, so everyone can obtain the help that they need and deserve