Anxiety and depression is a nightmare hell scape that is wish on no one. Even with me telling people how bad I am they still don’t get it until they see me at my wits end. I don’t hide that I am one sick woman. I am getting help and have no problem with talking about my disease. Needing a service animal is not what I want. I don’t want to carry my cat with me, I don’t want to be paranoid, I don’t want to be depressed or anxious every second of my life. I sleep most of the time.
People ask what is wrong all the time. It is clearly my mental illness. I get told I am not hiding my illness. Why the hell would I hide it? I am in a living nightmare. I am not okay. I am very sick. Because my normal personality is perky and happy all the time people think I should act that way all the time. I don’t smile because I either feel dead inside from being numb and exhausted or I am crying. I am only alive because medical Marijuana takes the edge off. I would be dead if it didn’t make life just bare able.
I refuse to use up energy pretending to be okay when around others just to make them feel better. I am in a never ending battle with the government to demand my rights. I am internally fighting and digging deep just to stay alive. You can have fake happy Jenny for a few days and then I kill myself, or you can have anxious Jenny who is literally fighting for her life. I don’t really want to stay alive, but I know that is just the disease so I fight with every fiber in my being. Knowing it is a disease making me think this way doesn’t make it easier. It does make fighting for my rights easier though.