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.
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.
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