There’s something wrong with me.
I know this. I feel this. I can see this in what I say and do. Every cell of my body says there’s something lurking there that doesn’t belong.
The problem is that I can’t figure it out.
I’m losing sleep over it. My mind is constantly searching through trap doors and behind curtains in hopes of some grand discovery.
I want that “aha!”moment. Because maybe if I know what it is I’ll know how to fix it.
How easily I forget that I’m not on this search and rescue mission alone. I can’t be because I simply don’t have all the tools to get the job done.
I am mentally ill, or at least I used to think I was. Now I realize my identity extends far beyond this part of me. I have a mental illness, and this illness can hold me back from seeing things clearly.
I need others with training, foresight, and far more knowledge than myself to see things from the outside in. I need these same exact supports to help me see things from the inside outward.
I know something is wrong. At the very same time, I don’t know what it is. This is a very scary place to be shrouded in uncertainty. Sometimes I just want to crawl into a ball and wish it all away.
But I can’t.
I need to fight this. I need to not be the victim of my circumstances. I need to be the warrior who changes them.
If I continue to see myself as someone who needs to be fixed, then I am making myself into something broken. Just because my pieces fit together in an uncommon way doesn’t mean they aren’t exactly as they should be.
Maybe what I think is wrong with me is really just something different within me. Maybe I need to stew in the uncomfortableness of it to figure out what to do with it. And maybe I need to trust in my supporters as well as myself that this perceived wrongness may be an unexpected opportunity for growth.