Help comes when you need it most
I'm cured by laughter
Mood swings, not sure I can cope
My life's in plaster
Today is, according to Twitter, Mental Health Awareness Day. Evidently, this is very serious. Everyone, I think, has a varying degree of mental health issues; there are just different ways to deal with things and also a varying amount to which people will admit to having mental health issues.
I am free and easy with my mental health. I battled depression for years and still have bouts now. When I think too much, and I do that a lot because I am intelligent, I feel sad. This, I know. Am I OK? No. I'll never be OK. But I'm coping.
What I have is neurosis. I am very particular about tiny things: words that I don't like to see spelled out on a page. Things mentioned that I don't like. Things I don't agree with on blatant display. I can spin out words easily enough - I managed to get my mother to support anti-censorship this evening even though she doesn't agree with porn for some reason. But part of me always wonders if I hide behind words, use them to create a mask: have this cool, sarcastic and loving exterior that hides a bundle of nerves inside.
But that's not how it works. I wear my heart on my sleeve. When I'm upset, I'll say that I'm upset, something that I understand all too well is difficult for many people with one of the varying spectrum of things that could be termed mental health.
I can't say much else. I have the scars of self-harm on my right arm and a multitude of unresolved issues with past failed affairs that I'll never have closure upon. It's difficult. I've wanted to end it all. I tried once, unsuccessfully. But I've talked people off the edge. H, 47, Esque, Mini... I've been called by, and called, them when I can lend my calming voice and hope that they don't jump, for my sake. And they never have. 47 is still in Germany. H is becoming a doctor. Mini and Esque got married (not to each other, but yeah).
I'm not dying of depression. I'm living with it.