I’m struggling with my mental illness and I don’t know how to go on anymore. I think the first part of the healing process is to admit that there is a problem. Honestly? I’ve been struggling with this for a really long time. A few months ago I moved to the city I have always dreamed of living in. That should have made me the happiest girl in the world. It didn’t. I thought it would fix how I was feeling inside. It didn’t do that either. I’m so good at playing pretend that I was even able to fool myself at times. Social media posts are a great way to throw people off your trail. I always say that I’m pretty open about my mental illness. I think that if people were open about their struggles, more people would feel comfortable coming forward. I sort of feel like a fraud. I don’t think there is one person who knows how miserable I truly am. I keep throwing myself into things to cover it up. If I stay busy then no one will be able to tell. I’ve told people that certain things make me happy so they don’t worry too much. The truth? Nothing makes me happy anymore. That’s so scary to admit.
I spend most of my time with the cutest kid in existence. While spending time with her makes living tolerable, it doesn’t make me happy. How fucked up is that? I love that kid more than anything. She’s my absolute favorite human and spending time with her doesn’t make me happy. If that can’t make me happy then I don’t know what can. Medicine probably. I’ve tried them before with mixed results. The first one I tried worked until a few months in and then it stopped. Then I tried another one that made my anxiety worse. So the doctor prescribed a combination of the two that had some nasty side effects. She said to half the dose of the anxiety reducing medicine and live with the pain. Really? That was super productive. I was so frustrated that I just stopped taking both of them and never went back to the doctor. Not my smartest idea. You see I suffer from depression because of a chemical imbalance in my brain. I need a medicine to manage the imbalance for me. Its been about two years since my last dose of medicine. Two long years of trying to do this by myself. I’m surprised its taken this long to reach my breaking point.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill myself. I’m not going to get into the reasoning why at the moment, but that’s not on my radar. I finally realized that I can’t do this alone anymore. If that wasn’t enough of an indicator, I had a breakdown while trying to find a doctor. A literal hysterically crying on the phone with the representative, hyperventilating kind of breakdown. I actually feel bad for the woman that helped me because I could tell she was concerned. Hell I would be too if a hysterical woman called asking for the information of psychiatrists. I’m currently waiting for a clinic to call me back to see if I can get an appointment. I don’t know why this is so hard. Its. So. Hard. At least I’m trying now. That’s something.