Decoding the Misty Dream of Mental Illness
The simplest inconveniences can produce some of the most heart wrenching moments. It is a strange truth I am still trying to grapple with, and it makes describing my experiences with mental illness that much more trying to those who have never experienced trauma.
Then again, I suppose it may be a waste of time to try.
Still, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't tried to push forward, to find a way out of that murky darkness that miscommunication produces.
I want to say, if only to myself, that I am open to change. I am open to all of the awkwardness that newness can bring, because I know that learning can be uncomfortable, but it doesn't have to be frightening. I can be nervous without feeling terror. I can be hopeful without preparing for disappointment. And I am hopeful that I can describe this properly. that you and I can understand each other without you ever having to go through the trials I experienced. So...
That murkiness I mentioned before, it comes and goes for me. Sometimes, without my doing anything at all… here comes that foggy darkness and I know simply by it arriving, that there will be a time when it must leave.
It's a subtle change, the murky darkness. One of my therapists called it mental fog, and she suggested it was the mind's way of distancing itself from its own thought process, an instinctive reaction to the flush of emotion and intensity that may lead to a fearful response toward the mundane and the routine.
It is in essence, A useful thing. a coping mechanism that is inbuilt into my psyche to protect me and to give me an opportunity to function at least until I’m ready To broach the true reality that I experienced. This darkness, this calming inner mist, gives me the space and time to understand myself and to prepare myself for what I can only describe as an inner battle.
But it's just so damn inconvenient. It's like putting on a blanket to stay warm but the blanket is always cool to the touch, and now you're stuck wearing the blanket because it is keeping the chill away, but it still isn't the comfort you were looking for. It never is.
Maybe describing this inner darkness, this fog, is too esoteric. Maybe it would be easier to explain how gut-wrenching a minor inconvenience can be simply by describing something that anyone could go through. I think for me mental illness is a lot like... every day is the day just after you've been broken up with. it's still fresh in your mind, all of the habits that you associate with your previous significant other are still moving you and it's something that you have to resist, and while you're out trying to clear your head and move forward you get a flat tire.
For me mental illness is that flat tire.
In addition to everything else that can go wrong with life, in addition to all of the troubles in drama that can arise, here comes something that anyone can experience but which is inherently a negative effect on your life regardless.
... Now that I've said it what an easy comparison! Mental illness is like getting a flat tire right after your significant other broke up with you. Mental illness is a fog blocking your sight, a mist whispering truths just beyond reach, and the more you reach out to it the further away it becomes. And sometimes, in all honesty, mental illness feels like a dead end.
There I go, sinking back into that murky darkness.
I've decided instead today will be different.
Today I've decided I'm going to stand instead of sink. so, whether that fog drifts over me today or not I'm going to be walking through it with my head held high because perhaps this fog is simply the natural weather of my internal world. Perhaps there are mountains and streams and fantastical landscapes inside of me that that heavy mist is drifting over…
And who am I to deny myself the water that my garden needs.
