I suffer from two mental illnesses. Clinical depression and general anxiety disorder (GAD). I am on medications for these and some days they work and some days they don't. I am limited in what I can take because I am prone to the side effect of "suicidal thoughts". Which can lead to suicidal actions. Which would make me dead, and that is not the best choice because I am a mother and a wife. My family needs me alive.
Some days, I think, "I don't want to take my meds. I don't like how they make me feel." Or, "I hate that medication A causes me to gain weight, maybe I'll skip a few doses."
I am mentally ill. This is something that I dislike, but, it is the situation. But some days, I convince myself I'm not mentally ill. There are days that I am certain that the doctors are wrong. Because I know what's going on in my head and my body. It's MY head and it's MY body. Who are they to tell me who and what I am? And on those days, I stand with pills in my hand, in front of the toilet and think about flushing them instead of taking them. I have flushed them a time or ten.
I am not offended when it is pointed out that I am mentally ill. Because that's the reality of it. Sure, it stings a bit when I hear it. But it is the truth. No matter how many times I tell myself or others that it's not the case, I am mentally ill. And that's okay. As long as I don't lose sight of it, and no one decides it's okay to indulge me in the fantasy that I am anything other than mentally ill.
If it ever comes to it, I sure as Hell hope that someone loves me enough to grab me by my shoulders and shakes some fucking sense into me. If my mental illness ever gets so out of control that I can no longer make healthy choices or lose sight of reality, don't just sit by and smile and nod. That's not how you show love. That's how to be a fucking enabler. Don't tell me pretty things like "I support your choices" or "If this is what makes you happy, I will stand up for what you want". FUCK THAT! No. Show me you love me by whatever means is necessary to pull my head out of my ass. Count my meds. Bring me to my doctor and speak for me EVEN IF I'M SCREAMING AT YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP! You're not helping me by indulging me in the fantasy that I am not mentally ill. If it hurts my feelings pointing out that I am mentally ill, SO FUCKING BE IT! Hurt my feelings. Hurt them really fucking hard. Remind me that I am, in fact, mentally ill. HURT MY FUCKING FEELINGS! Because me being alive with a booboo in my feel bads is a far better option that me being dead because no one wanted to offend me by saying "Listen, you're making really bad choices. You're not living in the real world. You're mentally ill. Take your meds." Hurt my feelings so that my kids have their mother around. Hurt my feelings so that someday I can spoil the shit out of my grandchildren. Hurt my feelings. Do it. Remind me that my very highest priority is my children. They need me alive. With my feet and mind firmly planted in reality. Better that my feelings are hurt or I'm offended by being called mentally ill by someone who obviously gives a shit about me, than being surrounded by a bunch of PC SJWs at my funeral. And the thought of those exact same PC SJWs having a hand in caring for my children scares the fucking shit out of me. Scares me so bad that I am going to go take my meds. Why? Because I need them. Because without them, I am batshit fucking crazy.
Because I am mentally ill.
