Dear Mental Illness,
Why do you always seem to creep up on me when I feel like things are falling into place? Are you unsettled when I start to smile? I wonder if you think I shouldn’t be happy. I wonder if you want to watch me suffer. Some days I wake up and it feels like something is crushing my chest. I roll out of bed and start my day. Do you wish I couldn’t get out of bed? I fight the urge to stay but the world is calling me. I go through the motions at work. I can hear the kids laughing but it doesn’t effect me because there you are. You’re burning my eyes with tears I refuse to let out. You never want to give me a day to feel happy. As the trees begin to change, I can feel more than before. Summers are usually when you vacation away from my mind. Sometimes I think you won’t return but here you are. You’re always there. I fight through your power with everything i’ve got but some days I fall short. Some of the days you get the best of me and on those days, I let you win. When you win I fight back more tears. I hear voices in my head saying this will never be over, you will always be sick. I roll over on my side while I lay in bed and I cry real tears. It doesn’t help. I tried to hide you for so long that I can’t cry most of the time, and when I do I feel weak. I feel like I’ve lost, but now I know it’s not the tears that make me feel that way. It’s the people who look down on me. The people who don’t believe I’m good enough because I have a war to fight each day. They don’t like how I behave even when I try. They call me a freak, I agree. Even when they say they love me they don’t listen. They don’t listen, I yell but they don’t hear me. I listen to my voice screaming in my head, why can’t anyone hear me? Can they see me? Can they see who I am behind the illness? I used to think I was a lot more. I used to think this was only a small piece of me but is that true? My in-laws don’t think I’m enough for their daughter, but they don’t even know me they only see you. Does anyone actually know me? My family pretends that ever since I got out of the hospital for the second time that all these demons are gone. I tell them they aren’t but they don’t hear me so I lie and say I’m fine. They think there is a cure for the beast inside but the truth is medication can only do so much. I swallow the handful of pills that don’t even work anymore, pretending that it’s all going to work out. I act like its going to go away but the truth is that it’s always there, it just depends how well I can hide it today. I try to stay strong for everyone but I never let them know when I need them to be strong for me. On these days I don’t feel like I deserve it anyway. My stomach hurts, but I force myself to eat. I don’t enjoy eating anything. I don’t enjoy anything, but I try. Why do you enjoy this? You give me flashbacks of things I never want to see again. You make me shake with discomfort and hate everything about myself. I never feel worthy enough to feel better. I beat myself up so I can feel something but it never works. You never let anything soothe me when you have your way with it. I hate you. I hate you more than anything in the world. I wish I could be better than you, or stronger. I act like I can take it but I can’t anymore. I’ve had enough of you. Someday I wish it would be possible to beat you, but I know I never will. You will always be a part of me mental illness, and someday I hope you let people get to know me, because id rather be mentally ill than lonely.
Am I the only one getting tired of explaining why human rights are more important than the economy? I come from a republican family. I was born and raised Irish catholic. I am the only one of my siblings that is gay, a woman and suffers from mental illness. It’s only me and let me tell you, it’s draining. Have you ever felt like the support given to you by people who just simply don’t understand isn’t enough? Do they belittle you without knowing or twist everything you say to make your feelings feel invalid? Are they defensive when you ask them to educate themselves a little more? Welcome to 2020 folks, the election from hell.
I always have had a hard time with friendships. Struggling with my mental health always caused me to have a hard time with limits and boundaries until I learned more about them. I was constantly feeling lonely. I never felt understood and not many people took the time to try and understand me.
Let’s talk reality trash TV! For the past three years my Sunday (and sometimes Monday) nights are dedicated to the 90 Day Fiancé franchise. Imagine a show where not only do personalities clash but also cultures! Can you say perfect combination for a train wreck? Because that’s exactly what this show is. While some of the main cast are cringeworthy, I’m here to talk about the family members that make my blood boil or just the ones I find are so annoying it’s comical.
I was four years old when I knew I was gay. However, I was 22 when I finally decided to come out. Three weeks after that I married my now wife. Up until that moment I never had to think about the different options of getting pregnant with the person I love. I always had thought i’d be in a heterosexual relationship so there were really no worries. No one seemed to talk about the process for a lesbian couple or even heterosexual relationships that have fertility issues.
I was 21. I wasn’t new to the process but this was a first for me. The double doors closed and locked as I watched my mother who had just traveled an hour and a half as fast as she could to ease me in. It didn’t matter. I cried out the tiny windows of the double locked doors as if this was it. This was how it was going to end. I would never come back from this. Next, I was wheeled to my room. White as a ghost the formalities blended together like that first time you feel grief when you lose a loved one for the first time. I sat in the exam room. I watched the needle go into my arm for a blood draw but I never felt a thing. Blank. I could feel my eyes swelling with tears that I didn’t understand. Who was I? What had my life come to that I was locked on this hospital floor unsafe to be alone? The rooms were cold. When did I get this bad? Why? I laid down on the hard mattress with blankets that felt and smelt like cardboard. All I could think about what the fact I had become a visitor in my own body, in my own brain. I closed my eyes and wished this to go away, forever.