I don’t think I see many people talking about how very heavy mental illness can feel. I’ve got a laundry list of mental illnesses, some I talk about, and some only my closest friends know about.
When something happens, a trigger… or a panic attack or something that sends you into a depressive spiral, the combined weight of your mental illnesses can feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Even when you’re medicated and in therapy.
It can glue you to your bed even when you’ve got shit to do.
It’s truly awful.
I’m not in bed, I’m sitting in my garden, so yay me, I got that far. Everything else I’d hoped to accomplish today is probably not going to get done. Which makes me feel just wonderful about myself.
This is all before you add in the very real physical issues you can get with mental illness. It’s a party I wish I hadn’t been invited to. Misery that has no cure, just treatments that sometimes work, and sometimes don’t.
I’m going to go stick my hands in some dirt. Did you know it’s been proven to help depression?
It’s part of why I garden.