- Posted May 12, 2014 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
Going public with mental illness
The Return of Being Human (Part II)
Some say that fighting the good fight has made all the difference in their life. And, mental illness is just that as the difference of willing to die for the inches in life is what makes a human being special.
In my first iReport I described the background history of my mental illness that has kept me petrified for the last two decades. I never lost hope and faith, but it was strongly tested. I was scared most of the time to be honest.
And, everyday it is a common-theme to introspect as the constant self-talking in the positives and negatives of my life is the only thing that keeps me from having another relapse. There are days when I refuse to hear that I was the problem for many years. But, I was just manifesting the "emotional pain" of many life-long occurrences.
But, I have to remember each morning to take my medications to keep me stable throughout the day. It's embarrassing to admit that to others. Yet, it is the only thing that keeps me sane. The constant struggle to make sense of the creature of the deep and dark torrid ocean engulfs my mind as the memories keep revolving in my head. Most days, I wish it would just go away. I'm constantly perplexed by it all.
But, everyday starts the same, I wake up and take my medications to begin the day. I make my usual pot of coffee as I have to stay away from drinking it all day as it can keep the chronic insomnia active. I turn on my computer to visit my websites, read the daily news and e-mails, smoke my cigarettes as it keep me calm, although I know it isn't good for me, read my philosophy and religion dictionaries, throw my instant oatmeal in the microwave, and end the mornings relaxed. I never had structure in the past, but I had to change my routine to sustain the recovery of my mental illness. It has made a big difference in my life for which I am grateful.
Yet, the day is only beginning and the creatures of life hasn't even visited me. I dread the afternoons in all honesty.
And, as the day goes on the memories of my current and past life experiences alter the reality of my life. In most afternoons, the constant reflecting (which is essential in the recovery as one cannot overcome a mental illness without self-honesty) of my whole life drains me throughout the afternoon. I struggle with sadness, grief, anguish, anxiety and self-hatred throughout it all. I hate what I see in the mirror most days. I avoid it when I go to the bathroom.
But, the mass perplexity starts here.This is what hope and faith is all about.
And, then, I remember the past and current instances of my transformation of being in-a-shell for two decades and the natural beauty of self-appreciation. The revolving winds and sunrise of the ocean ignite the second part of the afternoon. I look forward to this part of it. I begin to love myself by the wonderful feelings of hope, self-laughter, self-worth, self-love, and faith as the calm waters of my current creatures push me towards the beaches of another island with the mountains guiding me. I love this part of the afternoon. I'm ecstatic and downright giddy.
But, I still avoid the mirror. I don't trust what I feel at the moment.
I currently live in a rural area and trying to avoid my structure is impossible when I have no transportation and financial means to engage into self-loving behaviors of visiting coffee shops, libraries, malls, and music shops. I have no other choice than to reflect on the sea creatures at the moment.
I still smoke, drink soda water and listen to music to keep me calm throughout the day. I asked my father this one time and he has been supportive of my logic ever since. When I smoke, I ask him "Would rather me return to doing drugs or smoking cigarettes?". We chuckle. But, it keeps me calm.
But, when the night approaches, I begin to wind down in my routine with the same behaviors of the beginning of the day. I make a practical dinner for the night as I try to stay away from "big meals" as gaining weight happens with most psychiatric medications. I deplore the side effects of them. But, they usually go away after a tolerance of them has developed in 2-4 weeks of feeling the full-effects of them. I may deplore them, but it's what is saving my life. And, I take my medications again.
I avoid caffeine as much as I can as my main symptom of chronic insomnia always has me worried. There are nights when the San Antonio Spurs and Dallas Cowboys are playing, but I have to shut off the television.
My routine is what is saving me too besides the medications.
When I began my routine, I was a great skeptic of it, but over time, it helped me compose two novels and websites. It sustains my life and career.
But, I find myself causally glancing the mirror out-of-the-corner-of-my-eyes before bedtime. A big relief overcomes me then.
Yet, that doesn't mean that I will not relapse or be hospitalized when my mental illness overwhelms me.
When I'm scared of it all, I know how to ask for help now.
And, I just don't care what others think of me now when I relapse and go to the hospital. I long-ago, let go of the self-consciousness of society in mental illness.
All I realize is that I want to be happy, loved, and dream.
But, what I hope for has come to a reality as I'm feeling the same way before it all happened. I have to do the work too as saving myself is an essential behavior of a human being afflicted with this genetic condition.
And, then close my eyes to face another inch. It all begins soon.