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Mental Illness
Oct. 3rd, 2005 09:49 pmI was looking through my health insurance to see if they cover counseling. I have a real diagnosis of clinical depression. It is a chemical imbalance. I don't have enough seratonin in the right places in my brain. OK, so that means that no matter what is happening, I always feel drawn towards the darkness. I distrust happiness because it is uncomfortable and unfamiliar.
I cope with being depressed quite well. I am an expert. I devote my life to hiding how I am. I replaced the Prozac with endorphins and alcohol. True, alcohol is a depressant, but it can get me to thinking about other things.
I don't like people to know I have this "illness." The psychiatrist said that it is not really different from diabetes, in that I simply lack a chemical that normal people seem to have. There is still a stigma attached to mental illness and I don't like admitting to having anything wrong with me. I am healthy. To me, this is a sign of weakness that I am not prepared to show. People probably think that way anyway. "Just get over it... Cheer up, things will get better." Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. It doesn't matter. I keep coming back to that hopeless feeling. I keep having to cope with losses.
Maybe others can cope with loss better than I can. I tend to drink myself silly and sob loudly at home or at the gas station.
The sun will come up tomorrow, like always. I will get up and go to work, like always. I will smile at everyone and be rather chipper, as always. It's fake. I am a fraud. The forced cheerfulness takes its toll on me and causes me to break down. If I am lucky, this happens when I am by myself and not in front of other people.
My brother has it, too, and I suspect my mom has it. Back to that insurance. The copay is $40. I probably won't be going to see anyone about this. It's not exactly life-threatening like asthma or diabetes. I do wish for death, but not a bloody, painful, or violent one. I just want to close my eyes and never have to open them again. I won't try to kill myself because if I fail it is a pathetic plea for attention and if I succeed no one would really get it...
I cope with being depressed quite well. I am an expert. I devote my life to hiding how I am. I replaced the Prozac with endorphins and alcohol. True, alcohol is a depressant, but it can get me to thinking about other things.
I don't like people to know I have this "illness." The psychiatrist said that it is not really different from diabetes, in that I simply lack a chemical that normal people seem to have. There is still a stigma attached to mental illness and I don't like admitting to having anything wrong with me. I am healthy. To me, this is a sign of weakness that I am not prepared to show. People probably think that way anyway. "Just get over it... Cheer up, things will get better." Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. It doesn't matter. I keep coming back to that hopeless feeling. I keep having to cope with losses.
Maybe others can cope with loss better than I can. I tend to drink myself silly and sob loudly at home or at the gas station.
The sun will come up tomorrow, like always. I will get up and go to work, like always. I will smile at everyone and be rather chipper, as always. It's fake. I am a fraud. The forced cheerfulness takes its toll on me and causes me to break down. If I am lucky, this happens when I am by myself and not in front of other people.
My brother has it, too, and I suspect my mom has it. Back to that insurance. The copay is $40. I probably won't be going to see anyone about this. It's not exactly life-threatening like asthma or diabetes. I do wish for death, but not a bloody, painful, or violent one. I just want to close my eyes and never have to open them again. I won't try to kill myself because if I fail it is a pathetic plea for attention and if I succeed no one would really get it...
