Skip to main content

I'm mentally ill, but I'm still myself.

Often, when people find out I deal with mental illness, chronic illness, or autism, they express how sorry they are. This feels strange, like I'm defective in some way, and they wish they could change me, like I'm not loveable as I am. I know that's not what they're trying to express.

Sometimes, I do wish I could change me. Mental illness is especially hard. Even though I know there's no shame in having a mental illness, and it's not something I can overcome by sheer willpower, sometimes, I feel ashamed not to be able to will it away. There are days when, no matter how hard I try, I cannot do the very important things that need done, and the only block is an illness in my own mind. There are nights when I cannot logic away delusions or talk down paranoia enough to take my dog out. There are times when I do things during a mental health episode that I come to regret later. This all gets even harder to judge with chronic physical illnesses and autism mixed in; it's hard to know which directions I should be pushing myself. There are days like this, and those days are hard.

Most days, though, mental illness is just part of my life. I don't feel guilty for having asthma, and I shouldn't feel any more guilty for having a mental illness. When people say how sorry they are, I usually respond, "I like my life," and it's true. Mental illness is frustrating, and it can be all-consuming, but a lot of days, it's just another part of my life, the same way needing crutches is.

I have good friends. I live in my first-choice neighborhood. I have antidepressants that work now, even if I haven't figured out the anti-psychotics, yet. I wouldn't say that I like having mental illnesses, but it has helped me be more compassionate towards others, more in tune with myself, and more conscious both about self-care and about how I treat others.

For me, it's not an integral part of my wiring, like autism is. I can imagine myself without mental illness, sort of. I would probably take a cure, if one existed. The idea of living without the supports that I have now is terrifying, but if my mental illnesses were cured, I might not need some of those supports.

Ultimately, though, we don't have a cure right now, so please don't waste too much time being "sorry." Love me for me, right now. I'll keep working on myself as best I can, but I can't make mental illness go away, so you'll have to get used to it if you want to continue to know me.

Please don't make me the subject of family gossip. If you have concerns about my physical or mental well-being or how I'm managing my health, bring them to me. I also have some accountability partners who help monitor me in mutual accountability relationships, and they have my mental health professionals' phone numbers to contact if things were to ever seem really off.

Mental illness can be frustrating and discouraging, and some accommodations may be needed, but I'm still myself. Please don't treat me like someone to be pitied or controlled.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Jiggle When I Dance: A Poem

TW: Fat (reclaimed), eating disorder recovery mention, obesity mention, body image issues mention  I've been posting a lot of poetry lately because that's the content my brain has been able to produce, but I'm going to try to get some regular content to you soon. In the meantime, there is far to little fat positivity on this blog, as I grapple with my own eating disorder recovery, obesity, and body image issues. In that vein, I bring you my new fat positivity poem, "I Jiggle When I Dance". I Jiggle When I Dance When I dance My stomach wiggles side to side Even after I stop moving   The movement of my breasts Is really obvious And I’m learning Not to try to hide it   My feet on the floor Would make creaks and thumps Except   If I move my lower half My joints scream in pain And I have to stop dancing   So I dance with the top of me Jiggles and all And I’m learning to be free   To love myself more freely To live ...

Autism and Teaching English

In many ways, autism makes me a good teacher. I explain things clearly and systematically. I keep detailed notes on each student because I have to do so to remember. I have formulas for everything and provide data-based feedback on student progress after every lesson. It also makes me a good English as a Second Language teacher. I pinpoint specific, recurring issues in students' speaking (accent, pronunciation, and oral fluency) and take a structured approach to addressing these issues. I do the same with academic writing (structure, grammar, vocabulary, spelling, coherence and cohesion). However, it makes me a lousy literature teacher. I'm good at poetry, but stories are not my thing. I take them at face value. It's hard for me to see symbolism behind the words. A story about talking rabbits ( Watership Down ) is, to me, just about the talking rabbits, and I'm totally into the narrative of those rabbits. I also cannot empathize with character emotions unless I...

Increasing my Testosterone Dosage

TW: Body changes, sexual changes, suicide mention   I started low-dose testosterone on February 1, 2016 . My step-dad had just taken his own life, and I felt the need to take control of mine. I was on testosterone for a long time before I was sure that I really wanted to be on it- that it was the decision that would reduce dysphoria the most for my nonbinary self. Part of this indecisiveness came from my autism; I've always had trouble making decisions due to being overwhelmed by the options and fearing regret. I talked a lot with my therapist about my uncertainty around testosterone, and the ongoing theme was that I was happy about the current changes; I was just afraid that I would regret future changes. So, I stayed on testosterone, reasoning that I could always go off of it if the changes started causing dysphoria from being too masculine. Since then, I've started trying my hand at online dating. Through answering the many, many questions on the sites, building my profil...