A Letter to a Friend Who Is Afraid to Talk About My Mental Illness
I’m a fighter, I’ve always been a fighter. You knew that — you still know that. Yet, sometimes you look at me wondering why my life turned out to be so underwhelming. All these grand ideas I had for myself and not even a handful of them accomplished after all these years.
I spent many long nights wondering why I had failed, and where I had failed. This was until I realized I’ve not failed and I’ve not given up fighting.
You see, my life is very overwhelming for me – something that you would know if you were not afraid to bring up the topic of my mental health. The way I see it, I fight tooth and nail to live one more day, every day. Life is exhausting. Life beats me up black and blue. Life is a bully with nobody to pick me up or shield me. Every day, I watch as I pick myself up over and over, steady myself and get ready for another battle with the hopes of winning the war. The courage I pluck out of nothingness but sheer willpower has to come from somewhere right? All the grand plans I had for myself have to wait, wait until I’ve laid the groundwork well for myself.
When you walk into a beautiful house, you wonder who decorated it and who painted it. I seldom see you wonder who laid the groundwork first — who laid the plans so meticulously to then allow for someone else to decorate it beautifully. Sometimes you forget, sometimes I have to remind you.
I hope that you know I’m not lazy and that my life is not underwhelming for me. My life is an adventure every day, one that I did not sign up for, but an adventure nevertheless. And one day, I hope to navigate plans to the original plans, or at least weave them into my current plans — I haven’t forgotten about them.
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Thinkstock photo via Ingram Publishing