I try not to make any secret of the fact that I’ve struggled with mental illness to varying degrees for pretty much my entire life. I talk about it fairly openly (that is, when it’s appropriate and to people with whom it’s appropriate) not because I want to use it as an excuse, but because I think it’s important that people be reminded that there are plenty of us who seem totally normal and together who are quietly dealing with this stuff.
The most frustrating part of the whole thing for me isn’t the number of pills I juggle every day and the constant adjustments to them. It isn’t the rechecks with the psychiatrist. It isn’t even the actual symptoms when they rear their ugly heads. It’s the fact that I can be so blindsided by them. The fact that one day I can feel pretty much okay and a few days later I realize I’m on the verge of falling apart. The fact that there are times when all I can do is take some time to myself, divest myself of my normal responsibilities, and heal.
So, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m being cared for by wonderful people, both medically and friends and family, and it’s important that I take the permission I’ve been given by professionals to take this time to heart and truly allow myself to make as much of it as I can. Rest, be with my family, do things to recharge, let the medication adjustment kick in, do all the things I know will make this worthwhile.
On that note, I’m going to start by sleeping without setting an alarm, a luxury I haven’t had in awhile.