Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Makes Me Wonder.

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape.

I'm not crazy. I'm not missing any screws, I'm not a nut and im most certainly not worthy of that action you make where you spin your finger around the side of your head and cross your eyes.

I'm not mental, I've never gone mental and I don't ever plan on going mental in the future.

I've never been to a nut house, a looney bin, a funny farm or to see a quack doctor. I've been to real hospitals, to real outpatient units and to see a real doctor, with a real M.D. behind his name.

I didn't ask to be this way, I didn't make myself this way and I certainly don't try to keep it the same.

I can't exercise it away, I can't eat lettuce and cabbage soup until it resolves. It will not stop if I shake my head, if I take a few deep breaths or if I remind myself why it happens in the first place.

I look like you, I talk like you, I go to the same school as you, I sit in the same class as you and I have just as many friends as you do. I have had a full time job, a full time education and I actively contribute to society. I run marathons, I love to bake, I love America's Next Top Model and Beverly Hills 90210.

I am exactly like you inside and out... except for one thing. I have a mental illness.

I am not delusional, I am not demented, I won't stalk you or manipulate you. I take care of myself. I live in my own apartment and am more responsible than most other people my age.

I do everything and have everything you do... except for one thing. I have Severe Panic Disoder.

Once a day I take a pill. Just like a hypertensive takes a pill, I take a pill to let me be just like anyone else. I take a pill to stop the suffering, I take a pill to prevent the fear and the terror.

Just one pill and you would never know that just one thing makes me different than you.

Without the pill I fight to get up, I fight to go to the grocery store, I fight to sit around and do nothing. Everything and anything becomes a struggle and life suddenly seems so much harder than its worth.

Nothing triggers me, nothing stops me and without the pill I have moments where I feel like my entire world is crashing down. The terror builds up in my insides and I can feel it coming. I know its there and I try to ignore it. I take a drink, a deep breath, I distract myself. But it still comes. Suddenly my heart pounds, I feel like I can't breathe and I feel like nothing will ever get better. I worry I might get stuck that way. That one day it might never stop.

You will never know, never ever know, what it feels like to really want to crawl out of your own skin. To have to stop your car out in the middle of nowhere, be by yourself, and try desperately to run away from your own thoughts.

You will never know what its like to feel like your own brain is against you.

Before help came I was kept prisoner in myself. I never knew when it was going to happen and I never knew why. I could be eating ice cream with friends or out to dinner with my parents. Even sleep wasn't safe, I would wake up repeatedly in the night to feelings like I was suffocating.

Without help I would have twenty panic attacks in a day, and no one ever knew.

I was having the best year of my life, my grades were in the 90's, I had great friends and I was a part of so many activities but then everything stopped. My whole world stopped and I had to fight for everything.

I wanted everyone to stop with me. I wanted everyone to just slow down so I could catch up. But no one did and no one ever knew. You can tell your friends when you have diabetes, you can tell them when you have cancer and when your blood pressure is too high. But you can't tell your friends when you have a mental illness.

Everyone needs to know, but no one can tell.

What would they think? what would they say?

So everyday I go to class. I sit next to you while you make those comments. I hear you every time you say something you think is funny.

And everything you say makes me feel like less of a person, less worthy and even more ashamed. I go home and hear what you say over and over in my head. I see your face when you make fun of "them" and I remember every nasty name you ever uttered.

I go home and I cry, by myself. Because no one can ever know.

Just as you claim to be "afriad" of people like me, I'm terrified of people like you.

You would never say those things about someone with cancer, so why would you say them about someone like me?

Don't call me crazy, don't say I am missing screws and don't tell me its all in my head. Don't tell me that if I exercised more or ate more vegetables that it could all just go away. Don't wonder why people like me have jobs, why we have kids or drive cars.

And everytime you even begin to think that I am any less of a person than you are, look around, I am probably sitting right beside you.

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