My mind is racing with anxiety. Things to do, things to do.
My body is exhausted with depression. Can’t move, can’t do that.
I feel now that I have found happiness I am freaking me out. I have everything I could ever dream of, I have two best friends (a boy and a girl), a boy who adores me, a purpose in life (my blog, helping others), a proud home of my own and yet my mind can’t switch off. I feel terrified of being happy. I feel I need to keep my home and my appearance perfect all the time. I am trying desperately to cram my mental illness into a box but it keeps on slipping out. You must be perfect all the time- how else could they love you?
You’re a freak- they will leave you.
Show them the real you- they won’t come back
Take some pills- that’s a lethal cocktail- that will work nicely
You didn’t go to therapy- you failed
But I want to be happy. And the people in my life have seen my suffering and done nothing but love me. They see the real me. I am not borderline. I am not bipolar. I am not my depression. I am not my anxiety. I’m just a good person who struggles to let good things happen to them. I’ve been conditioned to learn that love doesn’t come free after all. I am loved unconditionally- that’s the scary part. When I’ve been alone in the darkness its easier because no one can hurt me. But this happiness feels so good its worth fighting my disease for. AmyBelle