When It Feels Like the World Wasn't Made for Someone With a Mental Illness
I have never felt at home in this world. My brain, to put it simply, is different, which makes it hard for me to function in this universe. I get scared and panicky over stupid stuff. I can be completely calm about things that should scare me. I get sad for no reason.
There’s a voice in my head that constantly reminds me I will never be good enough. A good day can turn quickly and deviously into a nightmare for the smallest reason. It could be anything, a thought, a conversation or a moment of boredom that can trigger an overwhelming feeling of panic and loneliness.
Sometimes, I wish there was another universe out there, a place for people like me to call home. I wish for a place that doesn’t make me feel like I’m something to be put up with and where words to explain what I’m feeling don’t escape me. A place where I am not judged for pitching my tent in darkness and staying awhile. A place where I am welcomed when I find the courage to step into the light again.
Perhaps I’m naïve, but I’m dreaming of a place where tears are not weakness, where living is courage, where to be loved is to be known and where to be known is to be accepted. A glorious reality where I am not broken, but a work of art. A beautiful mosaic with sharp edges and soft curves. A masterpiece of colors dark and deep, pitched against colors both bright and lovely. A one-of-a-kind revelation, a declaration of morning and of night, of hope and of fear, of laughter and of pain.
I know this place doesn’t exist. Perhaps, I am destined to always live in this world, a stranger and a pretender. Maybe I will never been seen as strong for choosing to rise each morning, to live and be in a world that makes me feel like a freak.
I do know I have been gifted with one or two friends who truly get it, who understand I fight demons before I sleep, in my dreams and again when I wake. Friends who listen to me when the words come out awkwardly and garbled. Friends who hug me when the tears fall. They are God’s gift.
They are a wonderful reminder one can be a stranger to this universe and still find a tribe, a band of people who choose to get lost with you and stumble with you through the darkness, until a ray of light is found. These blessed few are the reasons I chose to stay here. For, to find a friend and ally is a sacred thing. To not walk alone is a gift for those who wander in a world not made for them.