The thing about mental illness is that it’s not only a show for everyone else, it’s a show for yourself too.
I remember one time having a conversation with someone whose friend was dating someone who was mentally ill and they commented, “They must get so tired of all of that.”
And yeah, I imagine they do. They must get really tired.
But, having been through a few rabbit holes, I have to say that its a lot more tiring for yourself. I am so tired of being fatigued everyday, of feeling my chest constrict and my breathing weaken because someone made a stupid joke.
I am tired of feeling like a burden. I am tired of looking at my pills, counting them out, and wondering how many hundreds or thousands I have taken so far in my young life.
I am tired of passing by tall buildings and thinking “Yes, I could jump off of that, and it would kill me instead of simply paralyzing me.”
And I am tired of people who look at mental illness, and see only the co-survivors or the co-sufferers. The people who look at someone who committed suicide and think, “Oh they must have been so selfish,” instead of, “Oh they must have been in so much pain.”