Being stuck in the confines of your own mind. It’s like the whole world is on slow-mo while your mind is on fast forward, a million thoughts per second, in which all of them end in darkness. In which all leave the world in ruins.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve convinced myself that on the count of three, by command, all of it would stop. The fear would loosen its grip. The world would suddenly stop being the adult version of the monster under the bed.

Anxiety, depression, bipolarity, eating disorders, and all mental health disorders are more than being dramatic. They're more than being a worrier. They're more than something you can “just stop doing.” It’s not the same thing as over thinking. It’s not the same thing as being under stress.

It’s waking up in the middle of the night because your heart is beating so fast, it’s painful.

It’s taking the entire day just to shower and do laundry because the world feels like it’s closing in on you, the weight of all it’s gravity on your chest. Try breathing like that.

It’s being calm one second, and having a panic attack the next. Not knowing why. Not knowing how to stop feeling like you’re free falling.

It makes tiny things feel enormous. It makes small seem insurmountable.

Being stuck in the confines of your own mind. It’s like needing to break free to get fresh air, but also needing to stay hidden in order to feel in control and feel safe.

The anxiety. The depression. The swings between elated and half dead.

It’s different than being attention seeking. It’s different than being manipulative. It's not the same thing as being overly sensitive or being crazy.

These labels only exacerbate how isolating it feels to live with it.

It’s kind of like a long term roommate that demands the wall side of the bed and the first shower. After a while, you just let it take up the space because you’re so tired of all the fighting.

My wish for the world would be that we all become so open, there is nothing to label or judge. Labels are the worst. There’s no elegant way to say that. When someone has a mental health issue, they’re already getting enough labels from the diagnosis or the medication, the last thing they need is one more. Or five. Or however many people can think of when they don’t understand.

We make labels so we can place the person into a category so that our world makes more sense. Which, is what we’re all always trying to do. It would just be so much easier if we worked together. If we put down all our weapons. If we saw a person as a person, with the same kind of beating heart as our own.

Some people are born knowing how to swim and others have to nearly drown first. It doesn’t mean they’re dramatic or manipulative or attention seeking or worriers, or too sensitive, or crazy, or psycho, or weird, or unlovable.

It may mean they’re a bit misunderstood. But being misunderstood does not make you defective.

Instead of continuing to feel just that, I’m trying to make a small ripple in the entire stagnant ocean that is the social conversation on stigmas attached to mental health disorders.

So, here is a glimpse into the hard truth about mental health. It's difficult, and will always be that fight for your own space. But it's also isolating, and it shouldn't be.

Your life doesn't have to be controlled by something, even if you can't control it's presence.

We're here fighting back. We're here finding ways to lessen its grip and experience joy and feel alive. We're healing and learning and finding that with a depth of hurt comes an abundance of appreciation for everything.

When you've been in darkness, everything becomes so beautiful.

Despite anything and everything I struggle with, I see the world as a hopeful place. I see people as being capable of understanding and giving grace, because no matter who we are and what we are going through, we are all here doing our very best, trying to be brave and live a good life.

There is joy and sadness, and for both, we need each other. We need each other.