A Letter to my Mental Illnesses

Dear mental illness,

I get so mad at you. You mess up so many things in my life. 

The first and probably the biggest thing you mess up in my life is my relationships. I can make friends, yes. Friendships start off normal. But once friends realize I have mental illness they either run away and hide from it completely making it awkward or they try to offer support and end up getting overwhelmed with everything that is you. Then they turn the other way and things are never the same again. And forget about romantic relationships. I'm too afraid to even venture into those waters. Because who wants to date someone who is emotionally unstable?

The next area you mess with is my job and livelihood. For me, I am on disability. At the age of 21. Thanks to you. I still try to work but it is so exhausting that by the time the end of the day comes I can do nothing but go home and go to bed. I can't cook dinner. I can't clean my apartment. I can barely keep up basic hygiene most days. And I struggle so badly financially. Because what pays the bills when I only have the disability money coming through cause once again I ended up in the hospital and missed 2 weeks of work? 

The next area you mess with is my dreams. I once dreamt of becoming an amazing teacher and trumpet player. Now I hardly pick up my trumpet. I imagined finishing college with the rest of my friends. Now they have all moved on to masters and I'm still struggling to get a bachelors and failing at it. I can't get my schoolwork done because you steal my motivation and my concentration. You have messed with the dreams I had. I wanted to become a foster parent. That can't happen until you become completely under control and I can handle the stress of another human being in my life. 

But probably the biggest things you have messed up are my joy, my passion and most importantly, my hope. You have stolen them. And I fight every day just to find an ounce to do my job. Just to get out of bed in the morning. And my hope that things will get better doesn't exist. I can't look more than a day or two in the future or else all becomes hopeless. Sometimes I can't even do that. Sometimes all I can do is focus on this very minute and not hope at all but just focus on surviving it and then the next one. Hope for the future is gone. Hope for now is gone. You have stolen my hope, mental illness. And I want it back. I want to be able to look forward and not see black. 

Mental illness, I want to be able to look up and see sunshine. I want to be able to have friends who are not on one end of the spectrum or the other. I want to be able to finish college and fulfill my dreams. I want to have joy and passion. I want to have hope again. 

I want my life back. I want ME back! 

Sincerely,

Kimberly