Why Me?

This is a question I ask myself often. Probably too often if I am totally honest, but it’s one that I can never answer. Why me? Why not me? In fairness, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but that doesn’t matter. Mental health is taken for granted, and people who have never suffered with or experienced mental illness, in any form, will never truly understand those of us who do.

It’s non discriminatory, it doesn’t care what your background is, who your family are, what job you have, any of it. If it is coming for you, it’s coming and there isn’t an escape. So many people think there is a cure for mental illness and there just isn’t. Yes, it can go away, for long periods of time and it can be managed with various treatments, therapies and regimes. Adjusting your life to fit around it. Not the other way around. It nudges its way in slowly, little by little it takes more and more of your life away. Your freedom. Your spirit. Your drive. Your passions. It takes it all bit by bit and you have to fight for those things. Some days the fight is too much and sometimes, you’re there gloves on and ready to go all the way to kicking it’s ass.

When you are unwell with a cold or tummy bug or even a headache, a few pain meds some rest and ride the storm. You’ll be okay in a day or two, usually. With mental illness, you are riding that storm for the rest of your life. If you’re lucky, the sun shines down and you see many rainbows in the chaos, but for the most part, it’s drowning in a deluge of downpours, fighting against forces just to keep yourself standing and it sure as hell isn’t pretty.

I am a good person, for the most part. I do my best to be good to others, to help when I can and look out for my family. I try to do the best I can, in all situations and here I am, sat at home on a Monday morning, looking for a job that isn’t out there because I have a mental illness. I am stuck. I have anxiety so bad some days I can’t leave the house other than to take the pupdog out for a toilet break. I have low moods too often to count and I can’t seem to get a decent nights sleep. I try to be positive, but that isn’t actually helping. I try to pretend that I am okay. I try to push myself to work that little bit harder, but in all honesty. I. AM. TIRED. I am tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like that break isn’t going to come. I don’t want a lot from life, but I would be glad of a little bit more sunshine, please.

Why me?! What did I do to deserve this crippling disorder?! Why do I constantly feel like a failure and a let down?! Why am I trapped in this house?! Why does panic set in at just the thought of going outside?! Why can’t I just be happy?!

There is no answer. It just is what it is. I was chosen to ride this storm and I have to try to hanker down and wait it out. Surely there are better things coming for me. I hope.

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