‘Armed With Skill And It’s Frustration. And Grace, Too…’ The Hip

It might look a lot like weakness to the outside world

Maybe even to inner circles

But there is nothing weak about the daily struggles that it takes to survive through a mental illness

I repeat

There is nothing weak about it

There is nothing weak about me

Yeah I get it

Maybe you see someone who is fragile

Someone who is broken

Maybe you see someone who is crazy

Fuck

I don’t know who or what you see

I know what I see

Every single time I pass my reflection in a mirror or window

I see a fighter

Someone who has spent their entire life fighting

Fighting to live

Fighting to find happiness

Fighting to find peace

What an oxymoron

I read somewhere once that,

Fighting for peace,

Is like fucking for virginity

I get it

But its the truth

I fight tooth and nail

I dig in my heels

I scratch

I claw

Anything

To make my way back from the war that is constantly waging in my own brain

If you’ve never been there

You’re blessed

Truly lucky

That you’ll never understand how totally terrifying it is to not feel safe with just you and your own thoughts

You’re lucky that you don’t have to wonder when it will all come crashing down around you

Again…

I’ll never be grateful for having mental illness

I won’t lie and pander about how its taught me so much about myself

About the world

Trust me

There are things I’d never wanted to learn

Like what Paxil withdrawal can do to your once functioning brain

Like how food can cease being appealing to a die-hard ‘foodie’l

Like what the inside of a single room at a crisis centre looks like

I could have happily gone through two lifetimes not caring to know any of those things

It hasn’t made me wiser

Or kinder

So I can’t find it in myself to express gratitude towards something that has stolen so much from my life

From my family

From my father

From me

What I can unequivocally state

Without any doubt in my mind

Is that anyone surviving with a mental illness

Must want to be alive a whole hell of a lot

To be persist

To continue

To just keep going

To anyone who doubts it

You have no fucking clue

The strength and determination it takes to do it all over again

Tomorrow

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‘Putting up with means withdrawing from panic in panic; adding panic to panic, hoping that panic will go away quickly and not come back; it means avoiding people and places that bring on panic so that one’s horizon becomes narrower and narrower unit it is finally bounded by the front gate…It means continued illness.’ Dr. Claire Weekes

I’m feeling frustrated today

I consider myself a pretty smart person

Also someone who is more self aware than the average person

I’m well versed in all things anxiety and panic related

I feel like I graduated with a masters in this shit

I can recite all the therapy talk

More so

I actually believe in what I’m saying

I am perfectly aware that nothing worse than the panic attack itself, will happen to me

And yet

Every morning I wake up, heart pounding, mind racing

In fear of the next panic attack

Those same panic attacks I’ve been having for over two decades

Those same panic attacks in which what I’m most afraid of, does not come true

In fact

It never comes true

So what the fuck is the problem?

I think my own fear is greater than my knowledge

So I give in

Day after day

Even with the meds I obediently take

I watch life pass me by

Feeling less and less like it’s even my life that I’m missing out on

That’s how far out of reach things like dinner out or going to my sisters house seem

I can’t seem to stop from being hard on myself

I feel like yelling at myself:

AFTER ALL OF THIS, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU STILL NOT GET?!

HOW MUCH MORE TIME WILL YOU WASTE BEFORE YOU FINALLY MOVE ON?!’

I’m sitting here shaking my head

Because, after everything

And I still don’t have the answers to any of that

‘I Have Loved The Stars Too Fondly To Be Fearful Of The Night.’ Sarah Williams

Three weeks ago

I felt scared

I felt panicked

I felt unsure

I felt lost

I felt alone

I felt weak

I felt crazy

Three weeks later

I feel strong

I feel empowered

I feel courageous

I feel a little invincible

I feel like a conquistador

I feel proud

I feel brave

Tonight

I want to bottle this feeling

Memorize this moment

So that I can take it out when I need a reminder

Of who I am

Of what I’ve overcome

Someday

I want to look back on this

Without regret

Without sadness

Without bitterness

And only feel proud

That what I endured

Didn’t break me

It didn’t shatter me into millions of sharp pieces

Instead

A fire within me was ignited

Inflamed by my struggles

Emboldened by my heartache

It burns so bright and so fiercely

That I wonder if the stars above will take notice

Unsure if I’m beckoning them

Or trying to outshine them

We’re the same though

The stars and I

We’re both exploding from our depths

And illuminating what would have been total darkness

The Only Way Out Is Through

It’s been something like two and a half weeks since I lost my mind
Countless days and nights that I haven’t felt like myself
That my skin hasn’t felt like my own
Two and a half weeks since I went to two different emergency rooms
Two and a half weeks since I spent the night at a crisis centre
Two and a half weeks since I first lost my appetite
Two and a half weeks since I first started having irrational and obsessive thoughts on top of multiple panic attacks per day
Two and a half weeks since I became scared to be alone
Scared in my own home
Scared of my own mind
It’s been a week and a day since I came to stay with my parents
It’s been a week and a day and I’ve only been comfortable being left alone once for a short period
It’s been a week and a half since I told my neuro psychiatrist what I was experiencing
It’s been a week and a half since I went back to my old full dose of Paxil
It’s been a week and a half of 3-4 Ativan per day
It’s been a week and a half of nausea, grogginess, headaches, crying fits and having my appetite return
It’s been a week and a day since I haven’t went to bed in my own home
Where I haven’t seen Joey either right before bed or as soon as I wake in the morning
A week and a day since I last napped with my dogs
4 days until I call my neuro psychiatrist to let him know how I’m doing
5 days until I start paying for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy
Unknown days until I return home
Unknown days until I don’t wake up afraid of a day filled with panic attacks
Unknown days until I don’t fall asleep fearing another day of panic attacks
Zero days that I haven’t wished for a different life
Zero days that I felt like I had the strength, courage and determination to get through this
Today though…is a special day
It’s the day where I wrote
Today is the day that I got my voice back


‘In The Depth of Winter, I Learned That There Was In Me An Invincible Summer’ Albert Camus

You know how every winter when it gets below zero

You think to yourself

‘This is the problem with Canadian winters, it just drops and you don’t have time to get accustomed to the cold temperatures.’

Well

That’s kinda like having MS

In one day

In one minute

In one nanosecond

You go from being just another random person

To be a person with Multiple Sclerosis

Maybe you lose functioning of your right hand

Or your lower half goes numb

Or you’re like me

And one day there’s a blurred spot in your vision

That no amount of lens cleaning

Will get rid of

The fucked up part

Is that with relapse remitting Multiple Sclerosis

Every relapse is kinda like reliving that first one all over again

Yeah sure you have your symptoms

But you’ve grown used to them

You’ve figured out a routine

A method of getting shit done

And then bang

Boom

Pow

Out of nowhere

Your leg stops working and you fall

Or your speech gets slurred and you sound intoxicated

Or you’re like me and you can’t stand to have your eyes open for another fucking second

So yeah

MS is kinda like that

And every time I think I’ve gotten the right equipment

And my coat is warm enough

And my snow tires are on

Then it changes in a flash

And now I’m standing outside in a T-shirt and it’s minus 30 Celsius weather

And I don’t remember a time when I ever felt warm enough

And I can’t remember what the sun’s gaze feels like directly on my face

And I certainly can’t recall what I was like before I turned into ice and shattered into a million pieces

Or who I was before MS blew into my life like a fucking snowstorm on steroids

…..

‘There Was A Time In My Life When I Thought I had Everything…Now I Struggle For Peace.’ Richard Pryor

This morning I read about Richard Pryor and having Multiple Sclerosis

Now I’m pissed off at myself

Because I allowed it to fuck with my head

All day

I kept seeing Richard Pryor towards the end of his life

In a wheelchair

His head sort of lolled forward

Frail and sickly

As if that image wasn’t sad enough

The word ‘invalid’ is stamped onto the backs of my eyelids

That’s how his widow referred to him in an interview after his death

When he became an invalid’

Something like that

That word taunted me all day

Haunted me

Invalid

It’s the opposite of valid

Which means

An idea or thought that is sensible

Or

Something that is important or serious enough that it is worth saying or doing

And that’s what got to me

Because at the end of his ‘battle’ with MS

He was reduced to a word

Irregardless of his willingness to fight and stay positive and be strong and every other trivial motivational one liner people throw at us

He was reduced to a word that literally meant he wasn’t important

That his life didn’t matter

And quite honestly

I cannot think of anything more heartbreaking

Than to be thought of

As nothing more than just inconsequential