I’m struggling…

I’ve been teetering on the edge of that deep dark pit. I’ve felt it for weeks. My anxiety has been at an all time high. I’ve been struggling to not fall in. It is taking everything I have to just get by. I am going through the motions on auto-pilot. It’s a constant cycle. Just when things seem to shine with light I’m hit with that darkness.

Reading about another high profile suicide hasn’t helped. I am heartbroken. Again, it hits way too close to home.

I’m not actively suicidal at the moment, but I’ve been there. I’ve fought with those thoughts and feelings. I’ve faced those demons. I’ve struggled with the desire to just have the pain end. To be able to finally find some peace.

It’s still hard to shake that feeling of loneliness. That’s what depression does. It lies to you. It tells you that you are alone even when you are surrounded. It tells you that you don’t deserve the people who care about you. Or that the people you care about would be better off without you.

Yet, here I am, wearing my all too familiar mask. Playing out the act I perfected as a child. The one that tells the world I am ok. The one that tells the world I have it all together. The fake smile, the fake laughs, the fake happiness.

This part of the cycle is always hard. I am lucky to have a fairly good support system at home. He helps me through the struggle. He pushes me to keep fighting every time. He forces me to keep my balance on this edge without letting me fall too far in.

I will be ok again. I will continue to fight my demons as long as I can.

We need to be more open about mental illness. Not be afraid of our struggles. It’s okay to not be okay.

If you are struggling, please, open up. Ask for help. Talk to someone. Talk to me.

This is a safe place.

“Dare to reach out your hand into darkness, to pull another hand into light.” – Norman B. Rice

Shout out to my husband

I have to give him a shout out.

He’s been here for me through the ups and downs and the highs and lows.

He reads the articles I send him that describe my mental illness more fluidly than I ever could. He is willing to learn everything he can to be better for me when I need him.

Even though I usually don’t openly come to him. I tend to take my emotional pain and struggle out on him. I internalize.

Still, he is there. He recognizes. He bugs me until I open up even just a little.

Yesterday I wasn’t feeling well. I wasn’t sick but I’m still learning what foods I can handle since my gallbladder removal and the food I ate the day before was not one of them. Well, I was not eating. I was acting uninterested in eating and I was being kind of mopey.

He offered me food. He offered to make or go to town to get me food. He offered to share his food. I refused. He became concerned. He asked if I was feeling down and depressed and maybe that was why I was feeling funky.

I cleared it up that it was just tummy troubles and everything was well currently. He still set me up in bed to relax and binge watch my show and not be bothered, just in case.

I really don’t give this man enough credit.