The chances of meeting someone that understands the torment of a mental illness is slim.
It’s not because a few of us experience depression or anxiety. In fact, there are more people suffering than any other time in history. It’s slim because only a few of us talk about it.
Only a few people are willing to admit they have melt down’s that takes them months to come out of. To admit that there is a lingering internal fear of how much power their thoughts have over their reality. That at a moment’s notice the color could be gone, the air could become heavy and time warps, that’s a scary thought.
It’s hard to explain the relationship between the heart and mind of someone that has depression. Sometimes forgiving myself is the hardest part of it all because these thoughts are my own. They sometimes come from dark places, memories, that are seared into my disposition. The emotions simultaneously rush in from those memories opening wounds once again, that will need time to heal, once again.
To expose the chink in your armor, to share your suffering, is an essence of intimacy. That isn’t easy to share but I can’t help but wonder how many people need it. How many people need guidance and acceptance when depression or anxiety takes a hold of their reality.
I think we would all be surprised how many lives can be inspired or save from your story. My depression and anxiety come from places in my life that I have accepted. Although these scars and wounds are large and may take a majority of my life to heal, they are still representations for my strength that I hope will inspire other’s to heal.
Share your story, we’re never alone in this world we just pretend we are.