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Yesterday was a hard day. The book my husband and I published, Sundays at Liberty Station, arrived on Friday, and five of the poets included in the book came over to pick up their copies. I loved it, but lately I have had difficulty with social situations. For some reason, I get so anxious that I can’t settle down. After the poets left, I laid down to try to calm myself. I couldn’t. I went from bed to computer, from computer to bed, and back again.
I called my husband. He was at work. He wanted to come home, but I told him I would be fine. I know he needs to work overtime right now, and can’t be with me. I have to support him in that. Mental illnesses don’t take a vacation. In fact mental illness doesn’t respect anything or anyone.
An episode can come on at a wedding.
An episode can come on at a funeral.
An episode can come on during your big presentation.
An episode can come on during a vacation.
My psychiatrist told me that some symptoms tend to get better with age, and others, like being social, tend to get worse. I’m definitely getting worse in social situations.
As a young woman I was a party girl. I loved to socialize. I was quick to make friends, and had no problem closing down a bar, taking a road trip, or hanging out in a coffee shop with a group of friends all day.
I can’t do it now. A few weeks ago, my friend drove me home before our poetry workshop, because I got overwhelmed by anxiety. I love my poetry workshop. I look forward to it. But everyone was talking, the room was loud and it felt like I was going to scream. I felt my heart racing, and I was consumed by thoughts that I was going to die. I couldn’t get comfortable. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t sit down.
There are times when I cry for myself. I cry with such a deep sense of sadness at having to live through a mental illness. The days can be challenging, frightening, and hard like walking through thick mud in rubber boots. I just can’t always lift my feet, or at least I feel like I can’t.
But then I do. I lift them painfully, and slowly. I keep moving, inch by inch closer to a destination that is unknown. I am a fighter. I have strength beyond my own understanding. Everyone with a mental illness is a hero in their story as long as they lift their feet up and keep moving. Lift your feet. Lift them over and over and over again.
I’ll meet you at the finish line, I promise.
This post is so moving. Not only can I relate to it, but I can feel exactly what you were feeling, from the sadness, to the hopelessness, to the determination. Absolutely beautiful. I’m sorry your struggling and am sending you good vibes!
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Thank you!
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I have bipolar with psychotic features and I see this within myself. I prefer to be by myself or with one or two other people to being at a large group or out at a party. It has definitely gotten worse. Hugs to you. http://lilypupslife.wordpress.com/
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Hugs back at ya!
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I truly enjoyed this post. I suffer from social anxiety as well and it’s a struggle to go anywhere in public sometimes. It makes me sad because, like you, I was once very social and friendly, and I miss that.
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I miss it too! I keep trying to stay as social as possible though.
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I try as well. Sometimes I am successful, other times I fail, but I never stop trying.
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I do not know what causes it, it feels sad. I think that everyone of us has something. I am anxious too. Then we just keep fighting. Part of human, of being alive. Hugs to you. Let us hope and pray for happier and better days. God bless!
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I don’t have a mental illness, but I do have a chronic physical one and in that sense can empathize with what you say about loss and the relentlessness of this invasive force and the choice you have to make every step of the way to keep going.
This is a moving post and a hopeful one–thank you for sharing both the difficulty AND the hope. Peace, strength, and all good to you.
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Yes, all chronic illnesses have something in common; they are tough to live with! Thank you for your support and kind words. I wish you strength and peace too. 🙂
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