Getting Real with Mental Illness

This last week has been a whirlwind of blah emotions. Coming back from visiting Motherly always puts me in a state of shock when I try to readjust to normal life. The first few days are filled with plenty of doting from the husband but eventually life goes on and it's hard to get back to normal.

I assume everyone has moments like this in their life, but when you have to deal with mental illness on top of that it can just be damn overwhelming.

I've been having some serious issues with depression this week especially. I wrote on Facebook yesterday that it's not the really bad days that are the hardest, it's the empty days. The bad days when emotions are high you can still say "at least I feel something" even if all you feel is pain, sadness and anger. But the days when you feel nothing . . . those days can get really scary.

Recently The Bloggess wrote a post about her own battle with mental illness. It was real, raw and beyond beautiful, and as usual she hit the nail on the head. She also admitted to self-harming, one of the hardest things to talk about even with others that deal with mental illness. So many assume that people who self-harm are eager to die, when often times it's quite the opposite. Oddly enough it helps to soothe anxiety and depression. I'm not advocating self-harm as a form of therapy of course, it's dangerous, frightening and unhealthy.

But I understand.

I understand because in the past, I too have used self-harm as a way to escape from the pain that comes with mental illness.

It has been almost six months since I last hurt myself. And that's something to be proud of. Something to celebrate.

But as The Bloggess says, "the fight goes on."

I still deal with depression, anxiety and obsessive compulsive disorder on a daily basis.

Functioning like a "normal" person can often times be overwhelming, exhausting and frustrating. And it's the hardest thing in the world to talk about because unless you've been exactly where I've been, you have no idea what it's like. You can't imagine how necessary getting out of the house to be around people is. Or quite the opposite, how being alone with peace and quiet is needed time to focus. How little things like laundry or cooking can drive you into a full blown panic attack. And little accomplishments like loading the dishwasher, putting on makeup or even just getting out of bed are monumental.

It's something I have to fight daily.

There are good days, bad days and those dreaded empty days. And it takes a lot of effort (and thankfully support from an amazing online community) to remind me that the good days will come. I can still be furiously happy.

I celebrate survival.

Because every morning that I wake up, I've survived mental illness.