Life struggles on.

Struggling with mental illness, a continuing story.

It has been a while since I wrote about my illness and how it affects my life.  So, how have things been going?

It is a roller coaster ride of ups and downs, sideway swings and dead stops.  I have been fairly stable, except for one brief period where I was delivered news that stunned me, and brought on a period of crisis which thankfully was passed.

It does not take much for a person in my condition to be tipped into a pit of despair, with thoughts of suicide coming to the fore.  I constantly battle with suppressing suicidal thoughts, with far too much of my time devoted to erasing them from conscious thought.  Not an easy task when life has been hardly fair in dishing out its favour.  I have to almost constantly have some form of distraction running in the background to hide from myself the fact that ending my life is more attractive than fighting to live in a world that no longer resembles the one in which I grew up in or one which shares even a vague resemblance to my viewpoint.

Unlike many who are afflicted with mental illness I don't display typical attributes associated with it.  I am articulate, possessing humour and generally look after my appearance.  The effort I have spent hiding my condition is such that some believe that my condition is fabricated, or even cured. This is not the case - my struggle to find a life free of the debilitating effects in constant.  Though I feel I am loosing the struggle due to people.

My largest hurdle in life is people.  How people treat me and how I perceive being treated by people.  This is the greatest threat to my well being.  While I can show a face to the world that seems impervious it is far from so. My automatic response to adverse conditions is to withdraw to the safety of my home.  This is interpreted by others in many ways - sulking, dummy spit, and the list goes on.  Think what you like but my need to withdraw to an environment that does not inflict mental anguish is paramount, you may not see it but the pain is very real.

The problem is that people are not understanding.  They are judgemental and uncaring in their expression of opinion of a person's actions and suffering.  I know, I hear and your opinions do nothing towards allowing me to enter into social interaction with enough confidence to live a normal life (whatever that might be).

So I will continue to struggle with the perceptions of others (clouded by my own coloured vision).  I continue to spend the majority of my time as a recluse.  I continue to be failed by those who are supposed to support me.  There is no light at the end of the tunnel, only that tiny pin prick of luminosity that could be explained as a source of hope.