One of the hardest parts of being mentally ill was realizing the reason I was so sad all the time was because I did not have the appropriate set of skills to maneuver the hard emotional hits of life. Both big and small. You assume, as a child, you are either just broken or doing it wrong. And I was. Both. But it was not my fault.
I was that girl that always laughed way too loud. Cried a little too much. And always at the wrong time. And it was more awkward for me then it was for everyone else. Believe me. It led to immense self-loathing.
It took over three decades for me to receive a diagnosis and appropriate medication and therapy. I am still in therapy. Probably will be for the rest of my life. But one of the best things I learned to do through intensive counseling was to face my inability to deal with tragedy and pain.
To grieve...
