My Mental and Physical Health for a Day, Described in Emoticons
I see a therapist. I had mental health issues long before chronic physical illness came along and added spice to my life. This therapist says I use my gift with words to cover up how I’m really feeling when I’m at my lowest, mentally.
My mind was blown, and I was angry. I had only considered my writing as a positive coping tool. I thought about what he said for a week. Next therapy appointment I was still angry.
Then, that same night, I sat down to blog about how I felt about the whole matter and instead wrote a post for a celebrity website so fluffy it almost flew away.
Surprise, surprise. Mr. Therapist was right. I thought about it, a little less angrily, and realized that I’d write about my physical health issues because I’m used to doing that, and because despite the problems I have with them, and the mental/physical health connection my multiple sclerosis has, it feels like my physical health problems are more understood. Or I’d sit and write about celebrities or something completely non-health related just to escape.
So, yeah, sometimes my writing is a powerful tool, and sometimes it’s another mountain I hide behind to escape reality. I need to deal with my mental health, too, but I keep pushing it off to the side.
My therapist gave me some homework at my next appointment. He wanted me to draw how I felt in emoticons for an entire day. No words. Just emoticons. Um, I don’t know if I can do that. But I did it. Here’s that story. By the way, the irony is not lost on me that I’m blogging about all this — with words. Say what you will about that.
My day in emoticons:
6 a.m.: Get up feeling like the walking dead.
7 a.m. — 9 a.m.: Why on earth do I have to function as a human being today?
9 a.m. — 11 a.m.: I really have to function as a human today. Ughhh. Why can’t I hide under the covers forever?
11 a.m. — 3 p.m.: I have to work. It’s too much.
3 p.m. — 5 p.m.: I hurt. There’s too much pain. I can’t take this. I’m going to lie on the floor and drown in a puddle of tears.
5 p.m. — 8 p.m.: I don’t know anything. I’m so confused.
8 p.m. until whenever I fall asleep: I am weak, but I’m strong. I may be a mess, but I can survive, because I am a part of The Mighty!
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