I wish I could explain it; the isolation of having a Mental Illness. No-one can really know, not unless you have been there. Not unless you have lived it.
It is a loneliness like no other. A loneliness that fights to break our spirit. Because, while we may not be physically alone, mentally there is nobody else in sight.
It is scary. It is a sadness that I try to explain when people ask, but no words come out, because in that moment, I don’t know why I am sad. In that moment I am…. numb.
Depression is being unable to control my thoughts, instead having them control me. Voices telling me that I am worthless and unlovable. Telling me that I am useless and a burden.
It is the fog creeping in and filling my head with darkness once more. A pressure that builds behind my eyes, that makes me see none of the beauty or good in the world but all of the pain and the bad.
It is a loneliness, a darkness so dark that tells me that it is my time to die. The voices tell me that no-one on this earth needs me. I am all alone in this big wide world. I am a burden. I am unwanted. I am unlovable.
Anxiety is being ready for work in advance but being unable to leave the house until just that last moment, because I am terrified that something bad is going to happen to me between home and work.
It is getting to work with thoughts and voices screeching through my head telling me that everybody hates me. I am a freak. I suddenly feel so small, backed in to a corner, unable to move, unable to make a sound, unable to escape this living hell.
It is a feeling of dread so strong that I don’t even understand it myself. All I know, is that if I am not careful, if I don’t get some control, I will burst into tears at any moment.
PTSD is passing my abusers street on the bus and suddenly I am back there; back in their house. Back in that torture chamber.
It is the loneliness of the memories creeping back in one by one. His accent ringing through my ears, I’m his special princess now.
It is being alone as the memories of his hands stroking my legs and his tongue kissing my neck take hold. It is shuddering, panicking, trying to get off a moving bus because, in this one moment, I forget which reality I am in.
It is the loneliness of the embarrassment and stares and judgement from those people looking on, who just don’t have a clue. They just think I am “crazy”.
Borderline is fighting with myself and others over stupid little things that to me mean everything.
It is the loneliness of having emotion so deep and powerful that sometimes it does just overpower me and I just lose all control.
It is the shame of knowing I am overreacting but being unable to do anything about it, for I cannot control it. Believe me, I’ve tried.
It is the fear of spiralling out of control as one huge emotion after another entombs me and overwhelms me over and over again. I can be happy one minute, then sad the next.
The loneliness of Mental Illness is feeling so out of control that I need to do the unspeakable to get myself back.
It is the loneliness of picking up that blade and seeing red begin to trickle down my arm once again. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. Knowing that nobody understands why I do it. Scared that I will be judged.
It is the physical pain that comes along with Mental Illness. The pain that makes my head pound or my body ache. The pain that makes it nearly impossible to move sometimes. The pain that nobody understands unless you are living it too.
It is the loneliness of walking into a Mental Health centre by myself every few months to be assessed and sort my meds out even though I am terrified, because I know deep down that they will help me.
It is the loneliness of just trying to survive and make it to my next session with my therapist week after week. Knowing that if I can make it there then I will be OK. Knowing that I trust her. She understands me. She doesn’t judge me. She cares. She wants to help me get stronger. She wants to help me survive. She knows I am frightened. She knows I am tired.
It is the panic that rises in my chest when an employee asks why I have a set day off every week. For I don’t want to to shout it out to them that I am in therapy. Who knows the response I will get. Society is mean. I shouldn’t feel shame….but society makes me feel it. I am afraid of being judged for being ill. Is that fair? I am sick. I am in treatment. Just like with any other illness.
The loneliness of Mental Illness is being so exhausted and overwhelmed from battling every day that I just want to stay in bed and pretend the day isn’t happening but I can’t because I have a job to go to and a life to live.
It is the loneliness of knowing that if I even take just one Mental Health day, I will be judged and shamed for something that is NOT my fault. For I am sick. You just can’t always see my illnesses.
I am fighting an invisible battle every single day and it can be a lonely battle to fight. So please, be kind, for some days I just need someone to be there. To listen. To care.
This is just my loneliness of Mental Illness…….but there are many others in this world just as lonely as me.
Thanks for reading
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