.....or why did I.
Part of the answer lies in the duplicity of our societal biases about mental disorders. Everyone likes the idea of a world where people are accepted as a whole, rather than the sum of our flaws. A person with mental health issues is a great thing to have when you are trying to improve your public image to a kinder, gentler less corporate, money hungry entity. At that moment everyone is all "Let's talk". In the harsh reality of the real world no one wants to know. It will be held against you. You will be judged for the very thing that you work hardest to overcome. In time you feel unable to raise your voice to bring awareness to our plight. In time you will have barely enough energy to rise from your bed in the morning.
I mistakenly viewed the long road to recovery as a long winding country road with hills and valleys, shadowy patches and passages where you can feel the warm sun on your face. I realise now it is a treadmill. You are not able to stand still for fear of being thrown but as you continue to run your body begins to tire and you have to recognize that you are going no where.
I am tired, so very tired of this run. My mind is no longer a friend to me. It teases me in my dreams with visions of people I miss only to tear them away again when I wake. Every bit of strength I have left I try to give to my family. Hoping that somehow it will be enough, knowing full well my mind will use my shortcomings to torture me further. When I have barely the strength to face a new day I hold on knowing that I can still pray. No judgement from society can ever silence my prayers. "and faith has brought me safe thus far, and faith will lead me home".
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