The Dark…

It’s dark where I am, and I’m trapped here. It goes from being freezing cold to stifling hot and it’s never comfortable. I know where the door is and if I could just open it I could let the light in, and see out and it would help. I can reach the door but I can’t quite open it, even though it is within my grasp, and even though I know how to open it, I can’t, so I remain trapped in this lonely dark place and it’s slowly destroying me. My mind thinks thoughts that I know are insane. And if I could just get a grip on reality then it would be OK, just for a second, but reality is as far away as the door and although I know it will make it better, I can’t grab hold of it…
I have a wonderful life, great friends, an awesome family, a husband who loves me very much, I’ve got coping techniques coming out of my arse, a million ways to make myself smile on the down days and a million things to be grateful for, life is far more full of blessings then it is sadness and I’m developing a happiness strategy that should be enough to put a smile on the most miserable of faces. If only mental illness was that easy. About 90% of my whole being knows that I’m lucky and I should feel very blessed, but it’s that pesky 10% that takes over and ruins everything, that 10% that whispers to me “everyone hates you” “you’re no good” “you’ll always fail” “you’re fat and ugly and don’t deserve anything good” no I’m not schizophrenic but I do struggle to believe I’ll ever be any good at anything.

I have a career and a bunch of friends and colleagues who will tell you something very different from the 10% but somehow it’s always that 10% that’s easier to believe.

I know my triggers, I know that at the moment my problem comes from the fact that I work with people who have no respect for me and a manager who is actually a bully, it’s hard not to let it ruin my confidence even though I know the problem isn’t me, it’s just the situation I’m in. I’m not getting the support I need from my husband, not because he doesn’t care, cos he does, very much, but because he doesn’t understand mental illness and because he is but a man.

I do a lot of work on myself, I see a great therapist, I get reiki, I make lists of the things that make me smile, I take photos of the happy times, I use positive affirmations every single day, I don’t bottle things up, I talk to people, I make plans, I proactively take steps to improve my well being all the time, and even during the dark I try to be kind to myself, but all of these things depend on being able to open that door in the first place. Some days I feel too exhausted to even try. I just have to remind myself that behind that door is a life full of love and sunshine and although life is never perfect, there is hope that it’s better than this dark lonely place, much better, in fact, if I could only let it be, life is peachy. I guess I’ll just keep knocking on that door until it opens…

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