Confusing.. Feelings.. mamajama

I’ve been quiet, I’ve been fair, 
Misdirecting my memories for the sake of your feelings. 
But it won’t go away 
I can’t stop thinking about it 
And I feel like I can’t talk about it, 
But I am forcing myself to. 
For some sort of closure, some sort of perspective, I guess.

Pay attention to these words 
And realize how ignorant, and misled society and people are as a whole about mental illness. 
Read carefully, without judgement, without worry, okay?

I was not taken seriously 
When I was down on my knees begging for someone to be with me that night 
That I wanted to die 
But shortly after this incident, 
My suffering was recognized
Because I had a minor cold.

- don’t you see how this is bigoted? ignorant? This is wrong.

Mental illness is far worse.

I can’t be angry at you. 
I havent forgiven anything, 
Because there is nothing to forgive. I pushed all this away, like it doesn’t exist, out of fear of losing you, and out of fear of discussing it and describing myself in the wrong way. 
I realized though, in all of this…

I was very sick during and after this experience, 
And you experienced the same, didn’t you?

The tightness in my face, my irratated, pained, swollen respiratory system.. the coughing that hurt, stung my throat, the peeling of the skin on my face from it being wiped so many times.. the heavy headed, drowsy, defeated feeling i had.. the fever, the hot flashes, all of these feelings of my physical ailments shortly after this experience were nothing 
NOTHING
Absolutely not f*****g s**t 
In comparison to the way my mental illness hurts me. The way it makes my bones ache, and my eyes hurt to see the sunlight, the way my legs feel weighed down and heavy, the way it feels to have made progress in mood, only to be dragged back down into the pits of hell… the way my breaths ached to begin with, but now they were short raspy and painful, sobbing, and rapid.. the hours upon hours I spent crying, feeling helpless, feeling unloved, and worthless, feeling hatred so deep within myself for the way I feel and how I have no control.. the way that hate, and anger can became so full and engulfed my every movement into wanting to slit my own f*****g wrists or cut myself a million times to where I could not feel this underestimated ache inside of me any longer..

I do not expect you to completely understand, because you have a normal functioning brain, and don’t go through these things.. but do you at least understand any better? It isn’t a feeling. It isn’t a choice, it isn’t something that anyone should be able to choose to ignore…. If I was having a heart attack, would you run away? it isn’t just a feeling, It is my state of health, it is like a car wreck, making my bones brittle and my every movement difficult.

I would rather have that cold that we shared, every. single. day. of my f*****g life, than continue to have my mental illness.

I don’t know if this has informed you any, and I can only really speak from experience.. and I am not even sure if you will read this, or take the time to read all of it.

There is no describing the way mental illness feels to a full extent, but there is describing how it should be percieved. As an illness… not a feeling… not a mood… not simply a moment of weakness… not acts of selfishness.. it is an illness. It is chronic. It is life threatening. 

You wouldn’t just say.. oh so and so is feeling cancer today, I think I will give them some space. Or so and so has a broken leg, but they’re stronger than that, I’m sure they can get up and deal with it on their own and I’m not gonna help them, I’m done trying to do that for people. I felt on that evening, it was one of my very lowest peaks. 
That night, I didn’t even want to face the sight of my f*****g dog, because she showed such unconditional compassion that could be understood by her comparitively lacking brain, and yet not a single human being could understand that I was merely hurting, and I needed comforting. I needed tender love and care. 
Not space. 
Not time. 
Not to calm down. 
I needed comforting. 
I needed someone to kiss my wounds. 
All I needed was a hug, a conversation to help me along, a hand on my shoulder even… 
And I was left alone. 
Why?

That is all that was running through my mind, you know.

Why?

It still makes no sense to me, other than there must have been something that led you to believe fallacious attitudes toward mental illness. 
Like it is just a feeling. 
Like it is a sort of weakness. 
Like I will gain strength from time. 
That isn’t how it is, at all.

It is an illness, that could undoubtedly get worse with time. If you think you cannot handle any of this right now, f*****g run away, because this will always be a part of me.

Okay, so, After I felt safely out of that pit, that bout of mania and depression, I wanted to tell myself that what had happened, happened to make me stronger. 
And in fact, I did tell myself that. 
But i realize that is wrong. 
I am not stronger. I am just surviving. 
I have always been strong. 
I have always been fighting this.
That alone makes me strong.. 
And needing someone’s help and attention doesn’t make me weak or controlling, it makes me human! :/

On this night, I couldn’t speak right. 
I couldn’t think straight. 
I didn’t know what to say, 
And so I told you that I needed you. 
I couldn’t think about anything other than maming myself, and yet I was disregarded almost..

And sure, I talked to my best friend, and he calmed me down, but I was told I was overreacting.. I wanted to kill myself, and I was told I was overreacting.

THIS ILLNESS IS NOT WHO I AM, but it is a part of me. It cannot be replaced, and it cannot be fixed. It can be treated, but it will always be a part of me. But every single part of me loves you… unconditionally. Even the deepest darkest places in my mind that you can imagine…