He told me he wanted me to get better
If I need to get better, then I’m broken right? Is mental illness curable? I don’t think mental illness ever goes away. And I’m talking about the people who have legitimate mental illnesses. Not someone who was labeled as being clinically depressed because they payed a visit to a therapist because they were having a rough time for a little bit. People say “everyone gets depressed” and damn fucking right they do. But not constantly consistently overwhelmingly. That’s when you have a mental illness.
It’s when taking a shower for the first time in a few days is an accomplishment. It’s when you’re proud of yourself for getting out of bed before 5pm because you couldn’t stand to move earlier. It’s when the bad thoughts are a thunderstorm in your mind. It’s when everything you’re scared of hurting you or of leaving does. It’s being absolutely terrified and having no desire to move on. It’s being unable to leave the house unless you’re with your boyfriend because you’re terrified. It’s being terrified. Of everything.
I’m kicking my legs and his voice is stern. “Breathe Allison” he says.
My gasps for air turn into a slow whimpering as I bury my face into his chest and let my tears flow.
I love him. I’m terrified of losing the best part of my life because of my mental illness.
Because sometimes I’m a moody bitch, half the time I’m a mess, and it’s unusual if I don’t cry at least three times a day.
I know I need to have faith in myself, be myself, believe, try to get better, be optimistic, etc. But most of me is screaming that it’s bullshit. It’s screaming that it’s too hard. That I can barely pull myself out of my bed in the morning so how in the fucking hell am I going to be able to do this. How can I do this? How.