In the last couple of years, I have come to learn a few different mental health terms; some of which I have even been diagnosed with.
Bi-polar, psychosis, anxiety-depressive disorder, whatever.
The titles aren’t important, but sometimes being able to identify them has helped me explain to others why I do things the way I do them.
And why a lot of the time I’m not capable of tasks that were once simple to me.
Before I allowed myself to actually experience all of my emotions, I numbed myself to them in order to get things done.
We all do that. Because it is required of us. Because we don’t have the time to feel or experience everything we are faced with. Because we need to provide for ourselves, and sometimes because there is someone else counting on us.
It doesn’t matter if they are the children we raise, the family and friends we look out for, or the devotion and loyalty one feels towards the people we work with.
We tap into our logic and our emotional strength to find ways to cope and continue.
And it’s bloody difficult.
Sometimes it’s so difficult, that I find myself longing for the days back at the psychiatric ward.
Psych is kind of a like a month long vacation where you don’t have to work to get your meals provided for, and have a decent bed to sleep in.
However, it was highly frowned upon if you told the doctors that you pulled the fire alarm because you were bored out of your mind and just wanted to see some action.
“Adulting is hard,” said Captain Obvious.
I’m very fortunate to be living and working in a community where I am continually supported by the people around me. This past Thanksgiving, that is what I was thankful for. I’m thankful for Houston.