Not Yet

I'm willing to bet anything that most people who read my blogs don't know what it is like to feel like they are constantly living in hell with the symptoms of their mental illness. Searching for a plausible solution out of what has become of their life, only to find that for whatever reason it just isn't work for you.

I was scrolling Facebook today and found a quote from a woman I really admire. Tiffany Jenkins. Mother, comedian, wife, author and an recovering addict! I say "recovering" because even though she has been sober for quite some time, living a successful, fulfilling life; sobriety, from what I have studied, is a process and sometimes a life-long one.

She has some serious funny work out there there. She is honest and real with how she looks, acts, talks and raises her children. One of my favorites of hers is "If My Brain Held a Morning Meeting" series, where she rallies together motivation, anxiety, forgetfulness, social awkwardness, procrastination, aaaaand depression in a skit where each of the above mentioned are characters in her mind trying to fuck up her day.

#MOOD #CanRelate

I don't struggle with any addiction or substance dependency, so you wouldn't think I could really relate- but this quote sums up what everyone I have ever known has said to me when I tell them I struggle with suicidality: "Think of what you would be missing." "Think about what this could do to others." and "You haven't thought this through."

All I ever do is think, think, think. My mind is full of thoughts. Admittedly, often not positive ones. But boy do I constantly think about everything.

And I'm thrown into sadness because of an inspirational Facebook photo? Gah the inner pain I experience from not being heard or understood.

But I am understood, if even by a handful of people. There is a population who knows my pain and lives it. And almost all of them are addicted to substances. I don't know anyone else sober like me. Writing this blog today while tears stream down my face, fogging my glasses, tickling my nose and chin, holding my breath trying to make it through a full sentence before I take my glasses off just to blow my nose again.

*exhales vigorously*

I have four other, fairly well written, but unedited blogs sitting my in my drafts that I have been too depressed to fully complete my thoughts on and publish. And here I am starting another. I'm cool like that. I've been lacking motivation and stuck in bed for more than half of the days in the past week. For no reason other than I'm depressed and stressed.

I had a brief conversation with a friend I haven't seen in months. (has anyone been seeing their friends regularly?) We talked about how I finally had an appointment with a psychiatrist to discuss me returning to anti depressants before my usual depression, heightened by 2020's tornado of bull shit, meets my seasonal depression.

I discussed with it with my therapist and he agreed that my "anhedonia depression" is the most legit reason he would suggest returning to an antidepressant. [Anhedonia mean: inability to feel pleasure) The meere fact I walk around life not experiencing the joys others do simply because my brain isn't producing happy chemicals confuses everyone. Nothing sounds exciting or worth while, and *years* of this has lead to me glorying suicide because there is nothing else that could bring me legitimate peace. I like that I have a therapist that can bring sound logic and understanding into my life.

Okay back to my friend. Talking to her was a brief catch up. I am easily able to talk about difficult things in casual conversation than most because I value reality and emotions. Read below

I am not sure how or why I share so much with people who struggle with substance abuse and I don't. I literally don't know anyone else in my life who has struggled like me who has always been sober. But people do feel safe sharing their experiences with me because I don't judge them for their suicidal tendencies. Your life is your choice, no matter if you'd like to live it or not.

I often wonder if I lucked out from not liking any substances? I mean, I don't feel very lucky at all. I'm sure each of the people in my life who I have met me also felt the same confusion why I haven't turned to drugs. This includes doctors not believing me that I am sober and have always been sober. It confuses them. I've had doctors pry about this topic so deep they were convinced I was hiding something. Apparently trying to catch me in a lie.

I'm not! I'm clean! Always have been, always will be.

Because substances don't make me feel better like they do for others. Not that I've really tried too many, but the few things I've tried (weed, alcohol and my memory of pain killers after having my wisdom teeth out as a teen) were all terrible experiences.

It's a heavy burden carrying these thoughts feelings and emotions with me everywhere I go without a way to purge or block myself from them, as my addict counter parts. I'm sure being on the other side of this blog as a reader consuming my writings can be hard enough to get through too without having any mental illnesses of your own.

This weeks therapy conversation I was in tears telling Daniel that "This is not what I thought my life would be." He replied saying with encouragement "Then what do you want your life to be Kirsten?" (him implying "I can be anything I want.")

I replied "Not crippling mentally ill!"

And that leaves a lot of options open of what I could be. The truth is, mental illness shows itself in many ways. It looks a little different on everyone. We each have our own back grounds, lives lived and experiences that got us to where we are today.

I guess it's just not my time to feel better. Not yet.