Picking things up.

If you feel like a goldfish in a bowl, disoriented and helpless because you were won by a kid at a county fair who didn’t actually want a goldfish, then same. What can I say? I’m a mess. And the worst part is, in spite of the fact that I don’t feel this way, I have all the same prejudices and stereotypes against myself that people who are ignorant about mental illness have. Just like the crippling anxiety I get from hanging out with people I love, I know better and there is no reason but that does not make it any less oppressive.

I always have the best intentions and have this passion for living life and helping people, in theory. But then the time comes and getting myself to walk out into the world is like trying to force yourself into walking into a burning building. Whatever I’m carrying and however I got it, it’s invisible and only I can see and feel it. I’m tired of talking about it and trying to explain it. Maybe it can’t be explained because I am so screwed up that it’s beyond even mildly screwed up people. I don’t know. I’m just going to try this and if it makes you, or me, feel a little less alone or a little less like a round peg in a square hole, then all the better.

Also, this awesome photo came from: Darina Çiço from Pexels. 

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
I am, I am, I am. –Sylvia Plath

 

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