My mental illness feels like I'm in the midst of a giant, cluttered, shrub. I feel trapped, I struggle to move, and I am almost constantly terrified. Even though I have a mental health condition, none of the labels make sense to me perfectly. I used to think that illness was treated with a straightforward approach, you get ill, then diagnosed, then treated, and then better. I am now realising that my illness—and no illness—is that linear and predictable.