Self therapy can come in many different forms, and writing is certainly one of them. Being diagnosed with a mental illness can feel lonely, and lead to feelings of being misunderstood. When there is no one (or seems to be no one) to listen, we still need an outlet. That is likely why we consistently hear recommendations to write in a journal, on a piece of paper, or even on a blog – anything to express the words floating around in our heads. Don’t let a diagnosis make you feel trapped and alone. Letting our words out can be a very freeing experience.
I spent a bit of time trying to come up with a topic to write on, but what the heck – no creative fiction stories today. Instead I’ll write about how things are in my world as of now. If that sounds boring to you, then you’re probably on the wrong blog .. because this is supposed to be about living with a mental illness. Unfortunately, living with a mental illness does affect my day to day life. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be here. Time to speak sincerely.
About three months ago, I switched to a new anti-psychotic medication because the one I’d been on (off and on) previously was causing problems that could lead to infertility.
A month ago, I got a script for my medicines with enough refills for three additional months, and stopped seeing my psychiatrist – because we’re moving and I have to find a different one after we finish moving.
Now, today, I don’t think the medicine is working. Alas, with a week until we move, it will be some time before I can locate a new psychiatrist. Even after we move, we are only staying temporarily, then moving again in a few months. It all hinges on when we find an apartment in our intended location.
In the meantime …
… the symptoms are getting worse. I’m aggressive at unpredictable moments, very paranoid, seeing and hearing things .. and my poor husband deals with it. Recently, we were shopping and he left me with the cart to go find a few items while I looked for other things on the list. My stupid brain was telling me that a group of store employees were pointing and talking about me. It told me other shoppers were laughing at me, that I was being made fun of. Internally, I was freaked out. So when we got back in the (very hot) car, I was already upset. When my brain told me that pretty much everything my husband said was an insult or mocking (when it was nothing of the kind), that made things worse. It ended with silence in the car, but it was still a crappy experience.
It’s horrible to experience things other people don’t experience, and it’s horrible to get upset with someone who doesn’t deserve it because you’re experiencing something that isn’t real.
While I know Jesus sincerely loves me – that He loves all of us – I just can’t understand why He would let me be created this way. I don’t understand why I have a mental illness. I don’t understand why I have to take medicines that make me gain unwanted weight to make me “normal” when most people can get by with a mug of coffee.
If you know someone who is mentally ill – we didn’t ask for this. We don’t want this. Please don’t judge us for what we can’t control.
All of you out there, suffering and trying to pretend you’re fine – whether or not you have a mental illness – you’re not alone. The causes may be different, but we were all created by the same loving God – and He’s out there, listening. I’m just words on a screen, but He is everywhere. You are not alone.
Words on a Screen