What I Wish You Knew About My Mental Illness

My Post for the day is below this one — I didn’t read this article before I wrote my post this morning. It was sent to me via email a few days ago and I just got around to reading it. I need EVERYONE to read it … so I am reposting it with the link.

WHAT I WISH YOU KNEW ABOUT MY MENTAL ILLNESS

by Elizabeth Hawksworth

This one goes out to the naysayers, the ones who insist that mental illness is “all in your head”, that it can be “snapped out of”. This one goes out to the people who can’t fathom the darkness and can’t understand the internal pain. Here are the things I wish you knew about mental illness. Here are the things I wish you knew about me and people like me, because we walk the streets beside you. We sit beside you in the subway. And we’re your friends and family members.

When you don’t know, you can’t understand. And this is written from my point of view as a sufferer of mental illness only. I don’t pretend to speak for others, or to understand their personal struggles. But some symptoms are similar, and if you find yourself echoed in this article, I pray you, too, can find peace and understanding as we break through the barriers of stigma surrounding our lives and our experiences.

The first thing I wish you knew is that I don’t choose to be like this. Whether it’s my brain chemicals that are different than yours, or a situation I’ve experienced (and for me it has been both), I don’t make a choice to have mental illness any more than a cancer sufferer chooses to have cancer. My symptoms are simply different, and they are ruled by my brain, which makes it seem like I can control them. I wish you knew what a struggle it was sometimes to act normal, to keep smiling, to pretend that I’m just like everyone else. In reality, every nerve ending is buzzing, my legs are almost imperceptibly shaking, and my heart is beating a million miles a minute while I try to control the compulsions and obsessions in my brain. In reality, I would like to be safely in bed, away from the scary things in the world, in the cocoon of my apartment, ignoring everyone.

But I know that I can’t live my life that way. And when I’m having a bad day, and all you can see is irrationality and absence and a strange energy that I can’t quite hide away, I wish you understood that it’s taking every single cell in my body not to leave the outside world and hide. I wish you could see that, because I know you would understand if you could feel it, too.

I wish you knew that the thoughts in my brain sometimes have a wild way of their own. Sometimes they race and spiral at speeds unknown to man, turning over and examining every bad thing the human mind can think of. I picture the world exploding, my family dying from Ebola, what my cats’ deaths will look like. I picture murders, sexual abuse, maggots wriggling in a trash bag. I picture people vomiting, people being run over by cars, babies crying, neglected in their cribs. And I don’t have control, sometimes, over what my mind is showing me. Sometimes it’s completely hellish, unwillingly thinking of things that are so horrible. But this cycling is part of my illness. And when I smile on the outside, and talk quickly, jumping from one subject to another, sometimes I’m not just passionate and excited. Sometimes I’m trying to stall the cycling thoughts, to erase them with good things. Sometimes I’m successful. Other times, I’m not.

But I know that the rest of the world doesn’t picture these things. So I use my friends to vent to, and my writing to open the locked doors in my brain, so that the thoughts have a place to go. I do it because it keeps me from going completely mad. And I wish you knew that, that it’s sometimes hard to be in my own brain. That I can’t snap out of it easily, but I surely try.

I wish you knew of the dark winter days, the days that I don’t get up til 5 pm, the days that the soft and black cushion of sleep is the only thing sustaining me. Because my dreams aren’t like my thoughts. My dreams take me to better places. And being awake in the constant grey reminds me of the bad things in the world that I don’t want to think about. I’m not deliberately ignoring you. I’m preserving myself so that I can be there for you. I want desperately to be a good friend, a good family member, a good human being. And most of the time, I succeed in attempting these things – most of the time, I can pass for any other member of society. But I can only do that when I have the quiet times. I can only do that when I allow my body to let it go.

But I know that if you are an extroverted, social person, you don’t always understand the need for self-preservation. I know that you sometimes think I’m lazy, that I just need to change my mindset. I know you think my coping skills are rusty, that I’m just not trying hard enough. How I wish you knew how hard I try some days just to be the person I want to present to the world. I wish you knew how I quell the constant electric buzz of anxiety in my body at work on bad days, how I walk and pace to keep myself from vomiting, how my phobias and my obsessive cycling thoughts can ruin even the best experience unless I have a strict hold on myself.

Mostly, I wish you knew that no matter the mental illness we live with, we struggle with our shadows and demons all the time. That certain things can be triggering and it’s not our fault. That we don’t want attention and special treatment, that the media and the world and the general mindset of “suck it up” have created this space in which our minds and bodies don’t belong. So we try, daily, to belong. To laugh weakly at jokes about “crazy people”. To soothe and battle fears about the homeless man on the street. To break through the stigmas that have the world wanting us locked up, locked away. To prove that we are worthy people in society, worthy of respect, of consideration, of just plain friendliness.

I wish you knew these things — because behind my smile, I’m desperately hoping that you don’t see my illness. I don’t want you to think I’m weak. I just want you to think I’m just like everyone else — because I am.

I simply live with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Emetophobia. And I’m one of millions who want you to know that mental illness isn’t a choice.

The Thunder

It has been such a roller coaster of a week. I hate to even mention this, but it has been a big factor in what has gone on. Robin Williams death. I do all of my work on Facebook so it has been difficult to even open a browser, knowing that every other Facebook post will be about his death. Opinions being thrown about everywhere. Everyone has one, and I guess I do too. I found the best explanation in an article I read here. It talked about how Robin didn’t die by suicide, he died from Depression. He died from Bipolar disorder. He died from his disease, just like a cancer victim. Because that is what he is in all this. A victim. Did you know that someone tries to commit suicide every 4 minutes? Tell me this isn’t a problem. Tell me that we all have a choice. Well I’m sorry world. I DON’T have a choice. I did not ask for depression, borderline personality disorder, bipolar, OCD, ADD. You name it, I have it. I DID NOT ask for it! And I am so sick of the opinions that some where in all this there is a choice. Mental Illness is a disease that has an extremely high death rate. I could name the statistics but I won’t. But please understand, it is not a choice.

So my husband tells me that I have had a year to get my act together. Remember I talked about my one year anniversary? Well I guess it meant something for him as well. It meant that I haven’t fixed myself enough. I have not done enough for him to want to stay married to me. Then Robin Williams commits suicide and it is plastered every where I look.…..Bad timing. But you know, I guess I haven’t. I didn’t try enough to be the best mom I could to my girls. I didn’t cook enough meals for my family. I didn’t keep up on the laundry like I used to. Remember that nasty sleep disorder? Well, I didn’t wake up at 7am to get the girls ready for school and daycare enough. And I wasn’t the best wife I could be. I don’t know. Apparently I didn’t give it my all. So it is over. I lost. BUT, just so you know, I don’t blame him. He has carried the burden of my illness while going to grad school and doing an amazing job raising the girls. No blame. Just Cold, Hard, Reality.

I’m writing this at 5am watching a crazy light show of lightning and thunder. How amazing. Lightning then Thunder. Lightning then Thunder. God’s power is Glorious. But I am wondering in all of this. When does the suffering end? The splash of lightning and the rumble of the thunder. That is what my entire life has been. One after the other the lightning strikes. So close you think it would have burned me to the ground. Then the thunder comes in and shakes my life up in such a way that I have no idea if I will ever find solid footing. So, is there ever going to be happiness for me? Or just the constant Lightning and Thunder? I’m not in the best of moods if you can’t tell. I have suffered so much. I could write an entire blog about just ONE of my blog posts. I’m tired and I want to give up and let go. Who actually needs me in this life, I’m curious. My husband is great with my girls. He can take care of them on his own. And he WILL get custody of them. So who needs me? Why do I have to stick around and suffer more? Suffer through a divorce and living on my own. Look at my history and tell me that isn’t a recipe for disaster. Seth grounds me to this world. But it isn’t my choice to make. Life is unbearable for him, and I am not enough and never will be.

Anyway. I needed to write it out and I really don’t care about opinions on whether I should have written this or not. I don’t care. If it saves my life, then let me write it. Maybe I’ll delete this post later. I’m an impulsive person and I lead with my emotions. I have tried to turn them off I swear. Just part of the disease. The disease that stole my marriage. The disease that stole my life.

Now the lightning and thunder are gone and the sun is rising in the sky. Does that mean there is hope? Can there really be peace in this crazy, awful world? Lets hope so.

Back to the Beginning

I don’t even know where to begin with this post. My heart is breaking.

First, for those that don’t know, I have had some type of insomnia since I was about 15. Well I finally learned what it is called. It is a circadian rhythm thing called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder. You can read about it here.

It makes SO much sense why I could never find a treatment for my irregular sleep patterns. And OH, by the way. it just happens to mention Traumatic Brain Injury as a cause. Hmmmm. That would explain a lot. Everything always comes back to the Brain Injury. When your sleep cycle begins at 3am and goes until 12pm, that really doesn’t work in the real world. And it has taken its toll on my marriage and relationship with my girls. People thought I was super lazy and undisciplined, and I’m sure many still think that. Especially people in my own home. But this is a light shedding moment. Can it be fixed? I have no idea. There are very few things that work. But I’ll try them all. I always do. 

I wish I could have “that life’. The one that doesn’t involve ANY of my blog posts. I wish I had nothing to write to you. But that is not what God has given me. I keep having to break through brick wall after brick wall. And I don’t know why. I’m tired. Literally and emotionally. How can I not be? I hate the fact that I don’t live up to someones ideal, even though that is silly. No one lives up to an ideal. But I don’t even come close. What does that mean for me now that I understand why I do what I do?

I thought I was doing so well. My business is taking off like a rocket ship, and the ride has been AMAZING! I love enriching other women’s lives. Like really LOVE IT! It is what gets me through the day. But I don’t love to cook, and I have a hard time focusing (FYI, Facebook and Instagram are an ADD’s PARADISE!) The small things I can’t do. My focus is so fractured.

New Beginnings? Probably. I guess sometimes you wear a person down so much they just can’t find it in themselves to let go and move on. To forgive. And then to look for solutions. Things are going to be painful for a long time. I have no idea what the future holds. But I know I am going to need prayers for strength. Because it is beginning all over again. And I’m not sure that I can do it this time. Anyway. Sorry for the this post. My life changed in an instant this morning. The hammer dropped and I don’t know what to do.