What Happens When Your Mental Illness Isn’t ‘Severe’ Enough

It’s hard because, you can feel terrible one day and fabulous the next. And people don’t understand it. They say, ‘well if you have anxiety, you should have it all the time.” And they say, ‘Well  you don’t look like the type of person to have depression’.

People need to realize that everyone’s brains are wired differently. Everyone needs different amounts of care and medicine. I have a close friend who takes the smallest dosage of Zoloft, meanwhile I take the highest amount. It doesn’t mean that her anxiety is any less than mine. It’s just brain chemistry.

Not everyone with anxiety is going to have the same symptoms. Not everyone with depression is going to seem like it. In fact, if you look around the circle of your friends, you probably think you’re all alone with your mental illness. But I can almost guarantee you, you’re not.

Everyone single person you know is fighting something. And if it’s not panic attacks, it’s OCD. And if it’s not depression, it’s ADHD. And if it’s not anxiety, it’s Bipolar Disorder. And so on, and so on.

Mental illnesses are incredibly common, especially for the millennial generation. And you know what? They aren’t fun. They aren’t cool. they aren’t pretty or beautiful.

They. Are. Hard.

Whether you have anxiety or depression or even both, I want you to know that whether it’s high functioning’ or ‘low functioning’, it’s still an ILLNESS. It still matters. It is still legitimate. And it doesn’t mean you suffer any less or more than other people who struggle.

Take care of yourself. Get yourself the medicines you need. Don’t listen to the people who question it. Who question you. Screw those people. They don’t understand what you go through on a day to day basis. They don’t understand what you go through when you’re suffering. They have never walked in your shoes or even tried to.

Don’t let anybody say that their suffering is greater than yours. Don’t let anybody compare your illness with theirs. And don’t let someone say that you are ‘fine’, or that you look ‘fine’ and you don’t need help, when you do.

You are the only one who knows your body like you do. You are the only one who lives in your head and in your mind. Your feelings are valid. Your illness is real. And it doesn’t matter what people label it as. It doesn’t how many people tell you that you are weak or small or lying. They don’t get it, and that’s their problem and their loss.

You can feel like you are dying inside while doing laundry. While trying to sleep. While working. While breathing. And at the end of the day, no one will ever know how much you struggle.

And at the end of the day, no one knows your truth. Except for you.