It Feeds...

I went through this and continue to go through this.

She's family. She's worth it.

He was my friend first, boyfriend next, and then someone I now realize I should have never introduced him into my life.

Now don't get me wrong, he was/is a good person. But unlike her, he was not worth the struggle I went through internally to keep my mental health up to par.

Let me explain.

Anxiety, depression, and the occasional panic attack are my struggles.

Bipolar disorder is theirs.

Let's start with him. I say this because it was this experience, this highly toxic relationship, that made me realize that my health mentally, and in turn physically, was more important than any intimate relationship with a person ever could be.

He struggled everyday. He woke up happy some days, wanting to see me and make me laugh; but by midday, things flipped like a switch. The world was doom and gloom, nothing was going right, and it was all his fault. Why was he here? What was the point? Why get out of bed if he was just going to make everything worse?

Now imagine this: I'm anxious from the minute I wake up. I can literally feel ants crawling underneath my skin. My heart is beating hard. I can feel it in my bones and in my toes. I can't catch my breath and I'm trying to remember where I left my medication.

How do I juggle trying to get myself to feel better while also trying to help him? How do I put him first, when in the back of my mind, I know that the reason this is happening so often and so hard is because he refuses to take his meds?

Now I get it, don't misunderstand me. I hate medication. I'm currently off mine and have been managing in different ways for about three years now. But I also know that sometimes it's necessary, and for him, it was. He would get so angry at times that he scared everyone around him; he was so angry that running was the only activity that calmed him down. (Mind you, running in the middle of the night, in what they call Homicide Hartford, was not the smartest idea in my mind.)

So what did I do? Yup! I coddled him. As is the mothering nature in me prone to do.

Eventually I chose me entirely. I allowed myself to give up on the situation with the understanding that if someone does not want help, does not want to change, and does not want to do whatever it takes to get better, then no amount of coddling was going to make a difference.

I had to be selfish. And I realized that was okay.

Now on to her: She takes a plethora (nice word, huh?) of medications and she hates it. But she sticks to them because after years of struggling to stay connected to a family that has a hard time getting past some of the horrible things she's said and done, she's realized it's the only way to keep herself on track.

I love her to pieces, but sometimes I can't handle being around her. Her ups and downs can trigger me in ways that will leave me shaking for days.

So I choose me sometimes. I console her through a call or text while allowing myself the physical space to maintain my steady ground. I offer the best advice I can when I'm around her, and try to translate the world for her so that she can navigate it in ways she couldn't otherwise.

And then I step back and breath. She's worth the risk, he was not.

So I guess the gist of what I'm trying to say in this longwinded, semi-rant of a story is this: Even if it sucks, even if it hurts, your mental health will infinitely be more important than any one person. But you have to decide that for yourself—and know that when you do, it'll be the best decision you've ever made.

—Gabi Milagro